The Munificent Seven
by TheArchimage
Summary: The barrier is broken. Monsters are free. Take a deep breath, because between securing monster rights, integrating into a new society, and reviving the lost art of magic there's a lot to worry about. Meanwhile Frisk and their ghost friend Chara realize exactly what is needed to revive Asriel: no less than seven human souls, all given willingly. Sequel to How to Save a Soul.
1. ARC 1: CONTACT

AN: This fic takes place immediately after the events of How to Save a Soul. Reading that fic is recommended but not required; though some events and lore from that fic will be reintroduced or expanded upon, they will be presented in a way so that a first-time reader will still be able to enjoy the story.

It should be clear from the premise but I will be introducing a large number of original characters and at bare minimum seven of them are going to be dead by the end of the fic. I will not use warnings on chapters where a major original character dies, but I will use warnings if anything else happens during a chapter which may be disturbing to some readers.

* * *

The woods surrounding Mount Ebott were not a popular tourist attraction. Smokey Forest Campgrounds had been losing money since it opened, being too close for Weymouth residents to feel like they were "getting away from it all" and too far away for out-of-towners to easily reach. The only reason it was still open at all is that its current owner could not be bothered to figure out something else to do with the land.

Silas was fairly sure he and his three friends from his high school days were the only people there at all this night, a single campfire in the dark expanse. He had been out of the state for nearly seven years so he expected nobody to welcome him back to his hometown. He was starting to think he might have preferred that. He never was much of a camper; he preferred to appreciate the outdoors from a distance, preferably through a screen of some kind, while surrounded by modern comfort. But, now as before, Susan was a hard person to say "no" to. That was how he ended up spending the last Friday before his Bar membership was transferred back to his home state sitting by a campfire with a cooler of cheap beer on one side of him and plastic grocery bags of foods to be served at room temperature on the other. He could not help but feel out of place; his posture was too stiff and he could not feel comfortable in a hoodie and sweatpants. Marty had remarked earlier that it seemed to cause Silas physical pain to be outside of formal attire. His short blond hair in an Ivy League cut only added to how out-of-place he looked at night among the trees. He shuffled in his fold-away chair, eschewing its built-in cupholder to hold his beer can in the ever-so-slightly more convenient cupholder of "his left hand". He crinkled his nose as he popped it open and the scent of hops wafted up his nose. "Leave it to Marty to get the swill," he complained.

Marty thumped a hand against his chest with an expression of mock hurt. "But I got that special, just for you! C'mon, if you tried it you'd like the cheap stuff more than the fruity drinks they serve at the hotshot lawyer bars." Marty was a thin and lanky man, his t-shirt and jeans having those day-old wrinkles that only occur when you wear the same clothing multiple days in a row. His sideburns were kept trim and his face was clean of facial hair, with a lingering cut on his chin from a few days prior when he finally gave up on growing a goatee and tearfully sliced the five lovingly tended hairs there. His cheeks were sunken slightly, a look which served him well during his high school days when other people's parents would assume he was starving and offer him free food.

"Do you really think lawyers drink thirty dollar cocktails?" Silas pulled the tab back and rotated it to the side, otherwise it would bump against his long nose and irritate him every time he took a sip. "Young lawyers need too much energy on too little sleep to risk hangovers. They tend to prefer cocaine." He said it lightly but was only half-joking. It was actually something of a _problem_ in the industry. Not that he ever indulged in that or even considered it. He and his father had disagreements but he did not hate the man nearly enough to commit suicide in such a shameful way.

"So," Susan said as she stuck the marshmallow on her stick directly into the flames. "What really happened down there in Texas? I didn't hear you were moving back until you got here. Was the real world of practice too much for you?" She removed the marshmallow, now on fire, and watched with interest as it browned and blackened. Susan was a tiny woman, standing only five feet tall on tiptoe and with a frame to match. If she told someone she was a high-schooler no one would bat an eye, and she always got carded at bars and liquor stores. Her thick black hair was done up in a ponytail, and her dark eyes reflected the firelight. Despite her Anglicized nickname she was born in China and came to far-flung New Hampshire when she was still a child. To some she would forever be an outsider.

Silas shrugged as he swallowed his beer, staring into the campfire. He was wearing more clothing than any of his friends but still huddled close to the flames; it was a warm night for mid-September but he got cold easily. He wore a hoodie from his alma mater and khakis, both a little large to disguise the curves of his frame. "I don't take kindly to bullies, and judges and prosecutors have a way of doing things down there. They don't want some out-of-town public defender messing up their system. Is that enough for you to get the picture?"

"Maybe," Chad said, easing himself onto his own chair with a soda in his hand. "Doesn't mean we don't want to hear you admit your temper got you in trouble." Chad had a square face and a heavy brow, only his small chin saving him from looking like a linebacker or someone on the box art of a shooter game. His smile was the kind that made him appear to be mocking you even when he was completely sincere. It made him few friends, so it was a sign of how comfortable he was in this group that he displayed it freely.

Silas gave him a dirty look but Chad's grin was unshakable. "I didn't like how the system was set up. Like… here's one example. New Hampshire has a death penalty but we haven't used it in years. Not out of any sympathy for the accused, but most people in this state don't trust the government to make the call about ending someone's life. But life is cheap down there; a man walks onto your property uninvited and you can shoot him no problem. But a man so mentally challenged he can't even defend himself, let alone plan and commit a murder, and the jury executes him without a second thought. I couldn't stand it, and let everyone know. That's probably where I screwed up; if I'd kept quiet about it the whole thing would have never happened. But… well, you know."

"Your own fault for going all the way to Texas," Marty said. "Even the smart ones are still crazy stupid rednecks."

"That's classist," Silas insisted with a frown. "They're good people, really. They love their families, they have their daily struggles. So what if they don't trust what they don't know, that's not so different from us. I was a poor fit for the culture, that's all." But that was not all, or at least it was not so minor a thing as he claimed. The solutions to iniquities always seem so simple to the young. If a different path is better, why not take it? And the elders smile and shake their heads, because a youth could not understand why things were the way they were and how delicately it all balanced to make something that worked. An outsider looking to improve things was like a toddler confronted with a Jenga tower, making everyone else nervous every time they extended a hand.

Susan pulled him out of his reverie. "So what now?"

"Dad's letting me stay at his spare condo. I've submitted the paperwork to transfer over to the New Hampshire Bar, but I don't think I'll be staying forever. I'm going to keep my head down and do just enough work that I can't be called a freeloader. I'll move again when I feel up to it. After that, who knows."

Marty laughed and clapped Silas on the back, poking through his personal bubble without a care in the world. "And that's what we're here for, man! Just sit back, relax, take a load off. Get plastered with your high school buddies and forget about it! And hey, look on the bright side, you're still not as much of a screw-up as your brother."

Silas glared dangerously. "Remind me again why you're here? I don't remember us ever being very good friends."

"Hey, go easy on him," Susan said as she carefully laid out her carbonized mess on a graham cracker. Molten white goo oozed between the cracks as she pushed a piece of chocolate and another graham cracker on top to complete the s'more. "We just thought you might like to know what your family's been up to since you've been gone."

"My brother and I are not on speaking terms."

Chad was not smiling anymore. Susan moved closer to the fire in an attempt to dispel the chill which had come over her. Marty coughed, "Sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," Silas said, exhaling with a great breath. "I don't want to talk about him, so can we-"

The sound of rustling leaves in a rhythmic _shuff-shuff-shuff_ broke out and a hush fell over them. Animals did not make those kinds of sounds; only a human would be so careless. "Hellooooo?" Marty called out in the vague direction of the shuffling. The sound stopped abruptly. "Can we help you?" There was no immediate reply. After a moment a single shape advanced into the ring of light created by the campfire. Silas was expecting many things; a psychopath with a knife, teenagers looking for a quiet place to canoodle, an illegal trash dumper. They did not expect a child, four feet tall if that and dressed in a striped shirt and cargo shorts. The child was either a thin boy or a rough-looking girl, with a flat nose and small jaw which defied attempts to gender them by looks. They kept their eyes closed, but their head moved from one of them to the other like they were expecting someone to jump at them. They were not reacting to the sounds the group was making so that ruled out the kid being blind. So could they see after all?

Silas set his can down in the chair's cupholder and stood up, brushing off his pants. "Hey kid, how'd you get out here?" he asked. He took a tentative step forward; the child responded by stepping back and Silas stopped. "Don't be afraid. I'm even weaker than I look."

Marty cupped his hands around his mouth to shout out, "Silas, go home! You're drunk!"

Silas rolled his eyes. His friends laughed but the child did not. Still, they looked a little less tense. He stepped forward gingerly, hands off to his sides and open so the child could see he was unarmed. This time they did not retreat. "I don't know what you're doing alone in the woods at night, but you don't have to talk about it now. We won't hurt you, we just want to make sure you're okay."

Behind him Chad offered, "If you like you can sit by the fire and warm up a bit, and we have the stuff for s'mores and some other snacks if you're hungry. I caught some fish earlier if you need something more substantial. Up to you, of course."

Silas held out his hand for a shake, still two or three paces away from them. "My name is Silas Pembrooke. What's yours?"

The child did not move right away. It was hard to tell where their attention lay or even whether they heard him at all. The child's head cocked to the side as though looking at something over Silas' shoulder, then they put their hand in Silas'. Their handshake was tentative and limp. "Frisk," they introduced themselves. Then more quickly they added, "Holder."

Silas pumped his handshake once. "Nice to meet you, Frisk."

"Hey, their shirt," Susan said, pointing with her free hand at the child's blue-and-lilac striped shirt. She sucked the sticky marshmallow off her fingers before standing up and walking toward the child. "Aren't you that missing kid?" The child tilted their head in her direction and slowly, cautiously nodded. Frisk's hair was unkempt but clean. Their clothes looked worn but not three-days-in-the-wilderness worn. They did not have the sunken cheeks or the manic desperation of a child who had not eaten well. They looked like a kid who was checking out a strange noise in their backyard rather than one who had been missing and presumed dead. "Oh geez, isn't that something! You're alive! Think we'll end up in the papers for finding you?"

Frisk's head turned toward each of the adults in turn, taking an extra moment to look Chad up and down. Silas realized they were sizing Chad up as a threat. This was not surprising: Marty was lanky but otherwise average, Silas was visually unimpressive, and Susan was downright tiny. By comparison Chad's broad shoulders, thick neck, and square face would have put him on the short list for the most dangerous person of any room he found himself in. After a moment they looked back at Silas. "I'm not alone," they admitted the obvious. "Some people helped me. They're my friends, and they wanna meet you."

Silas almost hoped this was a trick of some kind, if only because the setup was so outlandish that the scheme had to be good one. "Are they hiding in the woods there? Well, ask them to come up. It's a bit much to ask us to step into the dark."

The child shook their head. "Um!" they said with a trembling lower lip. "They aren't bad! They're really nice so don't be scared!"

Marty shrugged with a grin. Susan licked a bit of marshmallow off her finger, looking wary but hopeful before looking to Chad. For his part Chad looked from Susan to Frisk before agreeing, "Alright, tell them to come up, but slowly and one at a time."

The child turned away to address the darkness. "Okay, you can come out now." Almost immediately they saw someone carefully approaching the campfire. The newcomer's skin must have been very pale, perhaps even albino, to show up this well in the dark despite still being a fair distance away. As they came closer Silas felt his stomach seize. What he had thought was skin was actually a layer of dense white fur covering every visible surface of the bipedal creature's body. It was wearing a purple robe with a simple design of three triangles under a circle with wings, but no gloves or even shoes. Its hands ended in claws and its feet were wide paws. The creature's face was a muzzle, oversized canines protruding from its upper lip. But the eyes… the eyes flashed with intelligence and a warm if wary friendliness. The creature put a hand against a tree to steady itself as it stepped into the light of the fire, moving with deliberate carefulness. Silas heard his companions draw a sharp breath and saw Frisk stiffen like a rod. Nobody moved. Silas hardly dared to breathe. He looked over to Chad, and the fear in his eyes revealed this was not a hallucination or a trick of the alcohol. Silas' attention returned to the creature just as the corners of its mouth upturned in a smile and it bent at the waist to bow. "Greetings," the creature said in impeccable if oddly accented English, its facial muscles conforming to its skull perfectly enough to make Industrial Light & Magic jealous. "I am Toriel."

Silas wobbled on his feet and stumbled backward. His vision swam. His head felt light and his chest felt heavy, like his torso was sucking his skull into it. He did not look to his friends this time, he could not tear his eyes away from the creature in front of him. Two hands grabbed his shoulders from behind to steady him, judging by the size of the hands it was probably Chad. Silas replanted his feet and the hands released him once he was on more solid footing. "H-Hello," he said, a bit shakier than he did with Frisk. "My… I am… That is…"

The creature, Toriel, smiled but her eyes looked misty. "This is not a costume, no. It is a question I have heard more than once. I am not offended. But please, there is no reason to be afraid. We only wish peace."

"We?" he coughed. There were more of them?

"Yes. This child's closest friends among our kind are with us just a short distance away. The rest of us wait underneath Mt. Ebott, eagerly awaiting the day they can walk upon the surface once more. Oh, forgive me, my introduction was incomplete. I am, we all are, monsters. We thought it best if we introduced ourselves one at a time to avoid overwhelming you all."

"That's fair," Silas said, feeling dizzy again. "That was a very good idea." The hands at his shoulders disappeared and someone dragged his chair behind him. Silas took the hint and sat down roughly, exhaling.

Chad stepped out from behind Silas' back. His expression was severe and he kept his right arm behind his back. "Hold on a minute. Before you go calling your friends, I got a couple questions. Like, why now? And what are you all doing wandering the woods in the middle of the night?"

"Woah!" Marty hopped up and put himself between them. "Easy, easy big guy. We're all friends here, right? She came greeting us, no reason to be-"

He was interrupted by a flash of light behind him. Everyone turned to look at Susan, brandishing her phone with a manic grin. "This! Is the coolest! Thing! EVER!" She put her phone down to stare, eyes twinkling, at Toriel. "And there are more of you? C'mon, what's there to think about? Bring 'em on!"

Marty winced. "Sorry about her, Toriel, she's kind of excitable." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Though I don't think she's wrong. I'd really like to see the rest of you, too."

Chad realized he was outvoted and made a face. "… Fine. Call the rest of your buddies. We won't start anything. Just… slowly, so there's no surprises. Something about creatures coming out of the darkness makes us humans a little jumpy." Toriel nodded, apparently missing his sarcasm, and walked back into the woods to confer with her fellows.

Marty walked over and put a hand on Silas' shoulder. "You sure you're okay, man? You want to hit the hay early, or at least have another beer?"

"I am-" Silas squeezed his eyes shut and took a calming breath. He had expected for Marty to make some kind of biting comment, so the genuine concern coming from the old class clown rattled him. Clearly Silas was not the only one who'd changed in the last seven years. "I'm fine. More alcohol won't help, I don't think. But I might… need a moment."

"Just stay seated," Chad said. He glanced around and whispered in his ear "Don't worry, I'll be keeping an eye out in case anybody tries to come from behind while we're distracted."

Silas did not have the chance to ask what Chad meant by that. Toriel was already coming back, her white fur standing out even on the night of a crescent moon. She stopped at the edge of the clearing and gestured to someone behind her. A small creature, who would barely have come past Toriel's waist even if they were not slouching, stepped into the light of the fire. They wore glasses and a white labcoat, and shuffled forward while keeping their eyes trained on their clawed feet.

"Oh you're adorable!" Susan cooed. She looked up to Toriel. "Why didn't you start with this one?"

The answer became apparent when the yellow monster averted their gaze. "Oh! Well, um, thank you, but I-I-I don't like being, you know, the center of attention. I'm more of a behind-the-scenes type. I'm Doctor Alphys, the uh, the former Royal Scientist. _Yoru_ \- I mean, nice to meet you, heh heh! Heh." She swallowed and looked at Toriel with a look which asked if she was done and if she could please disappear now.

"Izzat so?" Marty said, scratching his chin. "Well, I won't put you on the spot then Alphys. Welcome aboard." He gestured toward the fire. Alphys scuffed over to it, kicking up loose dirt while wringing her hands. Toriel and Frisk exhaled and looked at each other before Toriel bade the next come forward.

Marty's jaw dropped. Chad gripped the pistol tucked behind his back tightly, ready to draw in a split-second. Even Susan paled a bit at seeing what came forth next. It was a skeleton. A walking, talking, six-foot-eight _skeleton_. The undead creature was oblivious to their distress and waved exuberantly. "Greetings humans!" His voice echoed off the trees and silenced the wildlife in the area. "I am the Great Papyrus! I shall be the ambassador for monster/human relations. I would also like to count you all as my super-cool friends outside of my official duties, so feel free to bend my ear anytime on any subject!"

There was a pause as the humans tried to connect the terrifying thing in front of them with the incredibly friendly greeting they received from it. Marty's face froze in a grin as his eyes darted from one corner to the other. "Am… am I supposed to laugh? I really seriously don't know how I'm supposed to respond to this."

Silas let out a shaky breath, choosing his words carefully so he would not lose control of his voice. "I believe we should respond in kind. Greetings, Papyrus. It certainly is a _pleasure_ to meet you. Now that his panic response was fading, Silas thought Papyrus did not look much like a skeleton at all. The jaw was fused to the rest of the skull in a way that should have made it impossible for him to speak, the pelvis was too thin compared to his shoulders and was the completely wrong shape to fit into those shorts, and the bones themselves were much too smooth and reflective to be actual bone. Ignoring how none of him should have held together without muscle, the bones themselves were blockier shapes and in a much simpler configuration compared to an actual human skeleton. He looked more like what a first-year art student might create if you asked them to sculpt a skeleton from memory.

Marty laughed, but it was a short one with little breath to it. "Geez, and he's the third least scary? I'm _really_ curious about what the others will look like." His tone indicated 'curious' was not the word he actually meant.

"I think… he's only scary because he looks too similar to us," Susan explained, recovering herself. "It's called the Uncanny Valley. Basically, he looks similar to someone you might see on the street but very slightly off. Your brain focuses on the differences and rejects them as inhuman. It's the same thing with clowns or CGI. So I think the rest of them will be okay if they look more like Toriel and Alphys."

Case in point: the next monster to arrive was heard before she was seen, shouting "I'm neeeext!" before Toriel had even waved her forward. Papyrus hurriedly sidled out of the way while Frisk shouted, "Slow! She said slow!" into the darkness. The unseen owner of the voice responded, "Oh, right!" before stomping into the clearing. Like the others she was humanoid, wearing casual slacks and a black tank top over bluish-green skin which reflected the light oddly. An eyepatch covered her left eye, and her right eye was slit like a cat's with yellow sclera. She grinned widely, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth, as she looked over each of the humans before focusing her attention on Chad. "I'm Undyne, captain of the Royal Guard! Uh, I mean, I used to be… we were disbanded this afternoon. But it wasn't 'cause of anything I did! Anyway, you, big guy! You look pretty tough, how about you and me-"

She was interrupted as Alphys started pulling at her pant leg while placating, "Undyne, we're j-j-just introducing everyone! You shouldn't… I mean, please don't start any fights before everyone arrives…"

Undyne blinked at the lizard and rubbed the back of her head. "Tch… yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I hope you're all good humans like Frisk! Because if you aren't, you'll have to answer to me!" She allowed the lizard to drag her over to the fire while continuing to grin with vague menace. As soon as she looked away Chad sneered for a moment but said nothing. Apparently he didn't like being singled out.

Silas appended his early assessment; now that she was closer he could tell that was not skin on Undyne, those were scales. He swallowed, thinking of the bucket of fish Chad had stowed nearby. Were they about to cause an trans-species international incident already? He resolved not to think about it. Instead he noticed the fire was starting to get a bit crowded and asked Toriel, "How many of you are there? We'll make what room we can, but this is starting to push our limits."

"Just one more," Toriel said, gesturing behind her with a more curt and forceful motion than the others.

At first Silas thought it was another creature like Toriel. Then he realized it was, and most emphatically was not. Toriel was tall (but then nearly everybody was taller than Silas), but the last of the monsters towered. He must have easily cleared eight feet, not even counting the curved horns on the top of his head. He wore a long cloak which hung down long enough to cover his feet, picking up twigs and debris no matter how small and careful his steps were. Silas felt his vision darken but he managed to stay upright. Chad made no move for his pistol; would it even work against something like this?

"Howdy!" the creature said with a smile. For the third time tonight Silas felt dizzy. Oh, they were having another Papyrus moment so soon. "Thank you for being so open-minded towards us. I am King Asgore, ruler of the monsters. I hope this is the beginning of a long and fruitful dialogue between our races and a new era for all of us." He allowed a brief pause for any questions or reactions and frowned when silence continued its reign. "Erm… is this a good sign or a bad one?" His tongue darted out of his mouth and curved upward to wet the tip of his nose.

"Omigod…" Susan gasped, cupping her hands over her mouth. The corners of a smile peeked out from behind her fingers. "Did… did you just mlem?"

Asgore blinked. "Did I… what?" He licked his nose again in confusion.

"That! That thing! Hee hee hee!" She spun in place, squealing and giggling. Even her friends were looking at her strangely. "You're so cu~te!"

"Hey Shu, that's kinda rude," Marty said. Then he looked to Asgore for confirmation, "Er, is it?"

"Golly," the giant said. "I never thought it was notable. I suppose it's alright if she is enjoying herself."

Toriel rolled her eyes. "There you go taking things too lightly again…"

"Anyway, our turn, right?" Marty stood up and coughed to bring attention to himself and move the conversation along. "I'm Martin, but that's a dorky name so call me Marty instead. I've lived in this area my whole life, so I know all the best places to eat and all the tourist traps. I'll help you all get settled in, so treat me nicely." Ah, there was that shit-eating grin Silas had grown to loathe. If Marty had put that back on he must have found his rhythm again.

Susan stepped up next, walking up to each monster and shaking their hand individually, even Papyrus. Seemed she got over whatever fear she held when she first saw him. "It is soooo nice to meet you all! I can't believe how awesome it is that you're such great people! You can call me Susan, everyone does, and I hope you all have a wonderful time on the surface!"

Silas lifted himself out of the chair. He would not show weakness. Yes, he had been taken off-guard, but he was not an invalid! He cleared his throat and said, "I am Silas Pembrooke. Please don't take my reserved manners to mean I am not as welcoming as Marty and Susan. I look forward to learning more about you all."

Everyone looked toward the only person who had yet to introduce themself. Chad had to have noticed everyone looking at him but he showed no sign of discomfort. "Chad Nelson," he said simply before turning his attention toward the fire. That was it? He knew Chad did not like speaking, but Silas had not remembered him being this surly. Had something happened while he was away?

"Well!" Marty said, clapping his hands to move past the awkward moment. "So now the million dollar question: Who. Wants. Weenies?"

* * *

The first step had gone well. They had found adults who were open-minded and friendly, people who would be able to help the monsters more than a child could. Whatever happened next, there was little Frisk could do to change the outcome. It should have felt good to dump the responsibility, but Frisk was still incredibly anxious. There was still a lot that could go wrong, and if the people they found were not as nice as they seemed, or if they were not as competent as they needed to be…

No, don't think about that. If they did they would start crying and there would be no way to explain it to the people who might understand without letting everyone who did not understand in on all the secrets they were carrying. They could not do this alone. They needed to speak with their confidant.

"I gotta go to the bathroom," Frisk said suddenly.

"Don't go off alone," the man called Silas said without looking at them. His demeanor was strict and harsh but his face was full of soft curves save for the long nose coming almost to a point. He was kind underneath it all, they could tell. He had the same furrowed brow and narrowed eyes Chara sometimes got when they were mulling over a difficult thought, looking from one of the monsters to another and asking them questions about who they were and what their life was like underground and how all any of it worked. Of all the people here they liked him best with Susan a distant second. "Nobody wants to see you vanish again. Someone else should go with you."

Frisk made a show of looking everybody over before pointing at Papyrus. "I have been chosen!" Papyrus shouted with a blush. "Never fear, Frisk! I, the Great Papyrus, will make sure no harm comes to you!" They were warned not to stray too far from the fire, as it would be easy to get lost again in the woods at night. Frisk did not need to be told that; it had taken them an embarrassing amount of time to find Mount Ebott in the darkness when they first came here and had no desire to repeat the experience.

Once they were away from the group Frisk looked over to their side and sighed. "Sorry I've been quiet," they said into the empty air. "With so many people around it's hard to talk to you."

"I do not find any fault with you," the ghost replied, strafing to float directly in front of Frisk. "It is only to be expected; most people would not let a child wander unaccompanied and part of our deal was that you would not talk to me when others were around. I suppose I will have to get used to less conversation with you than I have become accustomed to." The ghost was a human child, a little older than Frisk but not much taller and wearing a green sweater with a single yellow stripe. While their words and tone were friendly their eyes were half-closed and their smile was disarming; someone who did not know them as well as Frisk did would say they looked suspicious and distrustful.

Frisk shook their head. "It's still not fair."

"Aha!" Papyrus said. "So this is what you were really after! You did not have human things to do, you had ghost things!"

"That's right," Chara said, rolling their eyes. "And that's why Frisk asked you to come with them. Because you're one of the few people who can actually see me."

Frisk tilted their head. "There's others?"

Chara counted off on their fingers, "Papyrus. Napstablook. Mettaton. I think Undyne's training dummy and Tsunderplane can, but I'm not a hundred percent sure about them. Oh yeah, and Sans too. I don't think you were awake for that. Meant to tell you earlier but things got a little weird."

Papyrus glowered at Chara. "I think he wanted you to keep that a secret."

"He didn't ask me to keep quiet about it and he had to assume I was going to tell Frisk at least. Besides, he's playing way too many cards too close to his chest. If I have the opportunity to spill some of his secrets I'm taking it." Evidently they were still a little sore about Sans pretending not to be able to see them for so long. "Anyway, this all is going better than I expected, but probably not as well as you'd hoped."

Frisk frowned. "You thought they'd all get killed when they first met humans." Chara shrugged and made an "eh" sound to indicate Frisk had guessed more or less correctly. "I'm glad it's working out."

"So far. Though we have you to thank for that."

There was an awkward pause. Usually Frisk would happily suck up any praise offered to them, but Chara had misunderstood something very important. Or rather, they were ignorant about the rules of the game having changed. It caused the adulation to curdle before they could enjoy it, like lemon juice being poured into milk. "Papyrus?" Frisk asked. "You're still my friend, so can you give Chara and me a minute? I hafta talk to them about… stuff."

"Private discussions?" Papyrus asked. "No problem! Secrets are the glue that hold friendships together, and you two must be very good friends indeed! I will go out of earshot, so as long as you two keep quiet I will not overhear you. But! I will stay close, so if you need me for anything I will be in easy reach!" With that he retreated about twenty feet, far enough so Frisk and Chara could whisper without him hearing but close enough to make out their shapes even in the darkness.

Chara leaned in closer, guessing what Frisk wanted to talk about without Papyrus there. "So, be honest with me. How many tries did it take you to get those humans to listen?" The fingernails of Frisk's right hand dug into their palms to leave little crescent moons. "I imagine it wasn't too many, you wouldn't have been so nervous if you'd had this conversation a dozen times."

"Only once." Frisk licked their lips and drew a shaky breath. "One try… is all we'll ever get anymore."

What do you mean? Why would- They cut themself off as the full implications of what Frisk just said hit them. "Oh." Chara rubbed at their forehead. "Oh. _Crap."_

Frisk nodded. "I can't Load, I can't Save, I can't even Reset."

Chara paused. "Reset? I don't know that one."

"It's like…" Frisk opened and closed their fist a couple times as they ran through how they were going to explain this. "If Load means I go back to my Save, a Reset takes me all the way back. I would wake up in the flowers again, and what I had done since then would be gone. It would let me start over. I knew I could do it, but I never did. Part of that was 'cause… you wouldn't memember anything. Nothing at all. If I did that we wouldn't be friends anymore. But now I can't do anything."

Chara began rubbing their upside-down-heart shaped locket between their thumb and forefinger. "Okay, okay, this… this is really bad, isn't it? I was sort of hoping to use that as insurance. That way if anything went wrong we could plan for it, we could mitigate the damage or get ahead of a scandal. But if your powers are gone… then we only have the one chance."

"We can't mess up. Not at all. If there's another war it's over. I can't go back and do it again. I'm sorry," Frisk sniffed. "My powers were the only things I was good for. Without them I'm useless…"

"That is not true!" Chara floated directly in front of their face and said it loud enough to catch Papyrus' attention. "You might not be eloquent but you're earnest, and that counts for a lot. You're good at easing people's minds, you saw it with that Chad guy. Come on, angst isn't a good look on you, let me handle that." They had intended it as a joke but Frisk's deepening frown convinced them it was not received that way. "You worked really hard to get this far. I think it's a good thing if there's less for you to do. Someone once told me I grew up too fast and I owed it to myself to be a kid for a while. I didn't take the lesson to heart then but I think he was right. I'm not saying I trust these humans because I don't, but I don't think it's wrong to take some of the pressure off yourself."

Frisk picked off a loose piece of bark from a nearby oak, brow furrowed. "Maybe you're right. I'll do what I can, but making peace between monsters and humans… I can't do much about that. And there's stuff only we can do. We can't just ignore it." They looked up at Chara. "Like Asriel."

Chara inhaled through their nose. "Yeah. We're the only people that know about him. We have to save him ourselves, because no one else will do it for us. I've been thinking a lot about that, actually. About how to do it. But it's a tough problem. If I could bring him back just by sacrificing myself I'd do it in a second. I wouldn't even care that killing myself is what started this whole mess in the first place, which really goes to show I haven't learned a thing." They were thinking out loud again, something they had started doing once they realized only Frisk could hear them and Frisk did not judge them for it. "Of course, the last time I gave him my soul worked out _oh so well_ for everyone. Not to mention I don't have a full soul so it probably wouldn't be any good. And even if it did he'd probably reject it."

Frisk wanted to be mad but forced their expression back to neutral. "He doesn't hate you."

"You asked if he would forgive me and he changed the subject rather than give you an answer."

"That doesn't-"

"I know him, Frisk. Even after everything he went through he's still the same boy I spent two wonderful years with. I know what he meant by that. And he has every right to hate me." Chara's eyes had become large and completely black, but they were not leaking that sickly-sweet black tar yet. Not very long ago Chara would have chosen to erase themself rather than let Frisk see this. Now they would only turn their face away if they felt Frisk staring at them, choosing not to hide even their darker emotions from Frisk. Frisk knew it was Chara's way of showing they liked and trusted Frisk; for all their skill at wordplay Chara was reticent concerning how they felt about other people. Which would not be a problem if they were not also bad at showing how they felt, but they were.

"We'll find a way," Frisk said with a smile, trying to bring them back to the topic.

Chara, however, shrunk into themself a bit more. "That's the thing. I already have one idea, but you aren't going to like it. Heck, I don't like it. I've been desperately trying to think of a better plan, but I don't know much about his soulless condition or souls or Determination. I didn't even know I would still be me after being absorbed and not just a big battery of magic for Asriel to use. I'm flying blind here. I can only go off what I know, and the only thing I _know_ will work is human souls." Frisk had a bad feeling about this. Anything to do with souls was risky territory. They took a deep breath and nodded for Chara to go on. "But don't think about giving him your soul. There are limits to what you can sacrifice for other people. More importantly I don't think it would work. You told me about the timeline where Flowey absorbed the other six souls. He didn't turn into Asriel, did he? Frisk shook their head. "I thought not. One soul won't work if even six souls didn't. He only regained his true form when he had power equal to seven. In order to let him live his life as Asriel, we'd need no less than seven human souls."

"Seven…" Frisk felt a little dizzy. They had not thought about it that far. Seven? Wouldn't that mean seven people would have to…?

Chara continued, "And remember, those seven souls would all have their owner's personality and emotions. Those souls could take over Asriel's body, or simply rebel and abandon him if his control slipped for even a single moment. Do you get it? We couldn't steal, or lie, or trick anyone out of their souls. The humans would have to know exactly what was going on and accept their role of enabling Asriel's life and keep him under control. Seven human souls, given willingly and with full knowledge of what that entails." They looked at Frisk evenly. "We would have to go out into the writhing sea of humanity to find these people. They would have to be compassionate, self-sacrificing, and have a love for monsters just like we do. Seven of the best people we've ever known or could ever hope to meet." They snorted. "And then we'd have to hope they die."

Frisk hugged themself and shivered. It had nothing to do with the cold. "Is… is that really the only way?"

"You don't like it either, huh? I suspect things are going to be crazy enough for the next week or so while everyone figures out the first crucial steps to let monsters live on the surface. We would not be able to do anything even if we were inclined to start right away. We have some time and I haven't better to do. So just enjoy your life, take a load off. I'm sure I'll think of something else."

Frisk was not convinced. They were acting without perfect information but Chara's reasoning made sense. The problem would not solve itself, they were sure; Flowey was not about to spontaneously generate a soul on his own nor was a convenient solution going to appear from the void. If it were easy Flowey would have done it already when he had control of the timeline. That alone told them the way to save Asriel would be hard, maybe much harder than freeing the monsters. But it was something they owed to him. It was the right thing to do. And more important to Frisk than any of that, it was something Chara needed. As long as Asriel remained underground and all alone Chara would never be able to move on or forgive themself. That alone was all the reason they needed.

"I should head back," Frisk said. "Don't want people to get worried about me. I'll talk to you again as soon as I can, okay?" Chara nodded but they continued gazing into the middle distance, rubbing their upside-down heart locket between their thumb and forefinger. "I'll try to think of something too. It's not fair for you to do it all by yourself either." With that they waved to Papyrus and began walking toward him. But Frisk was already thinking not of an alternate plan but how they were going to get and keep seven human souls. It was a big project, likely to take years. But they could not delay forever hoping a better solution would fall into their laps. They would need more of those containers to start with. Maybe Alphys had some or knew how to make them. Then they would have to find good people… once monsters were introduced to the rest of the world that would not be so hard. They doubted people in the area could stay neutral for long, what with magic and souls and everything else the existence of monsters meant. Those who supported monsters would be the good people, the ones who might consider giving up their soul. Then…

By this time Frisk and Papyrus had returned to the campsite. Frisk filched a single small block of chocolate from an opened bar and stuffed it in their mouth. When Chara whirled they flashed their ghost friend a tiny grin. Chara chuckled, knowing exactly what Frisk meant by that. Then Chara thought for a moment and gestured upward. Once they had Frisk's attention they floated up in the air and spoke, knowing Frisk could not respond. "These stars here," they pointed to a group, "make up Ursa Major, the great bear. These ones here represent Boötes, the herdsman. Between them is a group of stars that make up Canes Venatici, the hunting dogs. Only two of them are bright enough to be seen this close to the city, though. This one here…" They pointed to a non-descript yellowish light, just barely visible to the naked eye. "… is Beta Canum Venaticorum, but it's common name is 'Chara'." They blushed slightly as they cast a sheepish look down. "I know it doesn't look like much, but… I never really cared about standing out."

It was true, without having it pointed out to them Frisk would not have paid the star much mind. So easy to overlook, even though it was trying its hardest. They wanted to ask what drew Chara to that star so much that they took its name for their own, but they were among others now and could not speak freely. They resolved to ask them about it next time. For now they chewed on the little square of chocolate as they stared up into the sky, imagining they felt warmth shining down on them from the twin Charas.

* * *

AN: This story takes place in 204X, 31 years after Chara's death. I'm not going to bother guessing what the United States will look like in thirty years (or the way this presidential administration is going whether there's even going to be a United States in thirty years), so out of sheer laziness I'm going to assume the world is pretty much the same as it is now. So don't get too mad at me if you're reading this thirty years from now and I didn't predict quantum computers or Skynet or whatever. For this fic Mt. Ebott is part of the White Mountains in western New Hampshire, and just a few miles away is the picturesque city of Weymouth where the majority of this story will take place. While there are some vague hints in the game that Mt. Ebott resides somewhere close to the Greater Boston area, my decision to place it where I did has everything to do with me personally living in the area. See again, laziness.


	2. A Helping Hand

_The doctor smiled as he entered the examination room. "So!" He clapped and rubbed his hands. "Little Alicia is here for her three week wellness checkup, is she?"_

 _Lisa Pembrooke nodded. "A quick in 'n' out," she confirmed. "She's been a perfect little angel." Lisa and her husband sat next to each other, her baby Alicia in a onesie and wrapped up in blankets. The child's eyes were closed and she breathed slowly through her nose and mouth at the same time._

" _Is that so?" the doctor said, reaching for the infant. The baby opened her eyes halfway to look at him with a perfectly neutral expression. As he took Alicia he noted she hung limply in his hands before he set her on the table. "That's a little odd. Babies tend to get cranky when they're tired, but she must be so exhausted she can't even cry. You've been giving her plenty of rest, yes?"_

 _Reginald squeezed his wife's shoulder as she explained, "She's been getting lots of sleep; she's rarely up for more than thirty minutes at a stretch. A couple times she's even fallen asleep during feeding."_

 _The pediatrician hummed and his eyes narrowed. He decided to act on a hunch and do an examination out of order. "I'm going to administer a blood oxygen test first. It's probably nothing but I want to be sure." He clipped a machine over the infant's wrist. The child squirmed and gurgled but made no move to remove the offending object. Ten seconds later the data on the screen updated. The pediatrician exhaled through his nose. "One more time," he promised, switching wrists to repeat the test. The results came back the same. "Well. I don't mean to alarm you, but today won't be as simple as you hoped. We'll have to run some additional tests. We might need to keep her for a few days, maybe even perform surgery depending-"_

" _Surgery?!" Lisa gasped. "But… Why? She's fine! Alicia's been doing fine! Why would you need to cut her open?"_

 _The pediatrician sighed. "That she appears so normal is a good sign, but just because she seems healthy does not mean she_ is _healthy. A blood-oxygen reading is a measure of how much oxygen is being carried by the red blood cells in her arteries. Typically, we see readings from 95 to 98. Anything below 90 is a cause for concern." He pointed at the electronic readout and tapped it to call attention to a number. "Alicia's is 54. I don't want to alarm you Mrs. Pembrooke, but your daughter is very sick. There are only a few things which could cause this, and all of them are bad." He took a deep breath. "We will do everything possible, and I have high hopes that we have enough time to turn things around. But you should still prepare yourself for the worst."_

 _Lisa and Reginald studied each other's faces, each hoping to find comfort in the other. Their hands squeezed together tightly. Alicia lifted her hands over her head and closed her eyes, trying once again to fall asleep, completely unaware of how precarious her life really was._

* * *

Frisk sat on a log Undyne had rolled over before and was staring at their phone in one hand while a campfire weenie on a stick in the other. Someone had wrapped some pre-made croissant dough around Frisk's hot dog and toasted it in the fire. Frisk lifted their head very slightly and Silas followed their gaze. Most everyone was now seated around the fire in a wide circle. Only Chad and Asgore were standing; Asgore simply because he took up so much room, while Chad hovered behind Susan and Marty to keep all the monsters within his field of vision. No one was paying any attention to Silas or Frisk, situated outside the circle. This was as good of an opportunity as he was going to get. He walked closer to Frisk and called out, "Hey-"

Frisk gasped and hid their phone screen by thumping it against their chest. If their eyes were open no doubt their pupils would be as large as dinner plates. They swallowed once before greeting, "You're… Mr. Pem-broke."

The corner of Silas' lip twitched. "Pem _brooke_ ," he corrected. He attempted to squat down to face them at eye-level, but the first time he tried to squat with his knees together so he had to straighten up and try again with his knees apart this time. Still working on that. "Wouldn't you rather be closer to the fire? It's not that warm out tonight."

Frisk shook their head. "I don't… get cold. 'M fine." He might have chalked it up to youthful stubbornness if Frisk's teeth were chattering or they were huddling up on themselves, but they really did seem to be perfectly comfortable despite only having a long-sleeved shirt and shorts. The only sign of stress was the death grip they held on their phone, clutching it to their chest like it was the only thing keeping their heart beating.

If Silas had been more attentive he may have been puzzled at where the child's food had gone; not just the pig-in-a-blanket but also the stick it had been skewered on had disappeared. But his mind was on other things and he did not think to question how food could disappear in the presence of a child. Silas tapped a finger against his knee, letting the silence linger. "This might be a strange question for me to ask and it's alright if you don't have an answer, but what do you want to do now?" The child tilted their head like a collie. "You've literally been under a rock the last few days so you probably don't know. Your foster family… they gave your things back to Child Services like they planned. Their names were kept out of the news, so we couldn't bring you back if we wanted to. I don't know if there's another foster family ready for you or…"

"… or if it's back to the group home," Frisk finished with a sigh, their shoulders sagging. They put away their phone with the grace of a trained pickpocket.

Silas craned his neck to look up at the stars. "It isn't fair, is it?" He did not check if he had gotten Frisk's attention. "You didn't ask to be abandoned. I doubt you hated all the foster homes you've been in. And the moment everyone knows you're back you'll be whisked away again. And from what I could tell none of the locals really stressed themselves out looking for you. Maybe someone will want to adopt you once your story goes public in hopes of getting their fifteen minutes of fame. Maybe they won't. Someone who adopts you for that isn't going to have your best interests in mind. It seems like… one thing happened that you had no control of and it defined the rest of your life."

The child scrunched up their face. Did he lose them? It had been too long since he was a child, he was never sure how much they could and could not understand. After a moment they were able to pick some bit of meaning out of his word jumble: "Am… am I really that pitiful?"

He hurriedly countered, "Pity isn't that bad. If pity means you can get something you need you shouldn't hesitate to exploit it. Pride is a luxury." One he himself indulged in, true, but that did not mean he would not give it up for the right reasons. "I suppose 'pity' would be one way to put it. But another part is, I know a bit about how little power children have. The way I see it, hearing your story and what you've done for these people, you deserve a little bit of a reward. So has anyone ever asked what youwant?" Frisk's head lowered, turned to look at something over their shoulder, then slowly from side to side to indicate a negative. "I'm asking now. What do _you_ want to do, Frisk? If you could have any future, if you could go anywhere and do anything from here, what would you want your life to be like?"

Frisk wrung their hands and pulled their lips back in a not-smile for just a second before letting their face hang slack. It was impossible to tell where the child was looking, which made it difficult for him to tell what they were trying to work themselves up toward. "I…" they started. "I… told Toriel… I want to stay with them. I'd really like that, 'cause I've got nowhere else." They shook their head. "I'm a little bit stupid but I unnerstand more 'n people think. But…" They sunk even lower, their shoulders slumping in defeat. They knew as well as anyone how impossible that was.

An idea came to Silas just then. It was risky, belligerent, and could make him a lot of enemies. There was no guarantee the monsters or Frisk would be willing to go along with it. But it was _a_ way. It could work, and none of them had the time to think of a better plan. He put his hand on the child's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do." Frisk did not respond. They must have heard some variation of those words a hundred times before and seen such vague assurances amount to nothing.

"So wait," Susan asked, her voice carrying outside the circle. "So if you've been underground all this time, how did you live? Where did you get food?" A very good question, Silas had to admit.

Asgore smiled. "We grew it by magic."

"Magic?" Marty asked. "What kind of magic are we talking, here? 'She turned me into a newt' magic, 'Fire, Fira, Firaga' magic, 'Watch me pull a rabbit out of a hat' magic?"

"Erm." Asgore stroked his beard. "None of those, I think. We have heard that magic has completely died out on the surface, so perhaps it is best if we start at the beginning. Magic is how monsters express ourselves; it's a part of who we are and how we see the world. Every monster is able to use a little magic, though advanced magic falls into a few distinct categories."

"Such as?" Silas prompted.

Toriel held out her hand, her eye twinkling mischievously. A tiny flame sprouted from the tip of her finger and she held it aloft for all to see. Susan "oooh!"ed appreciatively but Silas was more skeptical. It was possible to make a flame appear to come out of nowhere with a hidden lighter or gas line, though personally Silas would not have risked an open flame near all that fur. Toriel explained, "Fire magic is one of the basic types of magic. Most monsters are able to learn at least a little of it for light, heat, and cooking. Boss Monsters such as myself and Asgore, however… You shouldn't stare at this too closely," she warned just in time. The flame exploded upward, forming a pillar of flame six feet high and covering her entire hand at the base. The humans all swore and leaned backward, their pupils shrinking from the new source of light. Toriel held up a marshmallow in her other hand and plunged it directly into the heart of the flame for several seconds. Then she closed her hand to put out the fire, displaying the marshmallow which had been toasted a faint golden-brown. "I assure you my hand is completely unharmed. I can control the heat precisely, burning or cooking only what I wish no matter the strength of the flame. You could put your own hand inside and not feel a thing."

"So how hot can it get?" Chad asked suspiciously. "And how far away can you set these fires?"

"Hot enough to burn," Toriel confirmed as she stuck the marshmallow on the end of Marty's offered stick. "As for range… are you asking how effectively it can be used as a weapon? Magic is not very good at that, especially against humans. A monster can only use magic within their magic field. A magic field is what allows our bodies to maintain their shape, though it can be expanded over an area for a limited length of time without hurting us. Even a very strong practitioner can only extend their field a few body lengths. Furthermore, human bodies are very resistant to magic. We cannot change you into anything else, and to do permanent damage your soul would need to take a direct hit."

"Wait a sec," Marty said, putting his hands up to form a "T". "Soul?"

She evaluated her choices among the monsters. After a moment she nodded toward the skeleton. "Papyrus, would you like to demonstrate? Extend your field over me."

The skeleton hopped up from the ground and saluted smartly. "Right-o, Ms. Former Queen!"

Before anyone could ask about that form of address a white upside-down heart appeared in the middle of Toriel's chest and stole the humans' breath away. "This is my soul," Toriel explained. "Monsters and humans all have one, though human souls point in the opposite direction. As you can see, the soul appears when a monster expands their magic field and catches another person's body inside it. A magic field cannot be seen but it can be felt, so you will always have warning before any kind of magic is used on you. So please be at ease; you have little to fear from our magic." Chad's scowl did not budge, but his shoulders relaxed noticeably.

"I want it." Everyone turned to look as Susan. Her hands reached out and grasped at the air between her and Toriel and she whined, "I wanna do that. Teach me how to do magic, please! Or… don't tell me… humans can't?"

"I am given to understand the practice of magic and all its related knowledge long ago passed out of human hands. However, we know humans once had magic; there should be no reason they cannot have it again. So on the way here we discussed this and decided that will be our offer: all the information we have about magic, and our full cooperation to any and all attempts for humans to regain it. In return, all we ask is that we be allowed to live peacefully on the surface."

Silas picked apart the words, finding more meaning in the individual sentence fragments than Toriel probably intended. "Given to understand" - humans losing magic was told to the monsters by someone, not the result of their own research. "On the way here" - they did not have a plan, everything was being made up as they went along. "Allowed to live peacefully" - they had reason to believe they would not be welcomed with open arms. He considered the story the monsters told about being locked underground for generations. He thought about Frisk. "In that case, I want to offer my assistance." He gestured vaguely to indicate the area around him. "To ease you in to the surface world and make sure you receive a warm welcome from my fellow humans. I have little to offer besides my expertise and a place to stay while you hammer things out, but I offer them gladly."

Toriel clenched her paws into fists but was smiling. "If you're sure… I believe that would be a tremendous help. Thank you, Silas."

A large hand clapped Silas on the shoulder. "Buddy, pal, chum. Can we talk for a sec?" Chad's crushing grip on his shoulder made it clear this was no polite request. Silas held up an index finger to Toriel, indicating 'give us a minute' and stood. Marty and Susan followed Silas and Chad away from the fire. They were just barely out of earshot before Chad leaned deep into Silas' personal space to whisper through clenched teeth, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Offering help to people in need," he responded coolly. "Is that a problem?"

The question seemed to take Chad aback. The fire in his eyes momentarily faltered as he tried to explain, "All we have to go on is their word. Have you really thought about their story? A magic barrier locking them underground, magic, you really buy all that?"

Susan lifted up her shoulders in a helpless shrug but her eyes were alight. "It's so outlandish it has to be true. Truth is stranger than fiction, right? I think they're awesome, you're awesome, everything about this is awesome! I am totally on board!"

Marty's eyes swung on a pendulum from Susan to Chad and back again. Finally he shrugged. "You know what? The hell with it, count me in. This sounds a lot more interesting than a campout anyway." If Susan was hurt at her camping idea being swept aside so easily the thrill of helping a new species integrate with humanity more than washed it away.

Chad scowled on seeing he was outnumbered. "So what's your plan, anyway?"

"Hard to say without knowing what we're working with. One area in particular they need help with is the kid. Frisk wants to stay with them and I think I know a way to make it happen. Can I count on you to get a few things done for me?"

Chad crossed his arms. "Why? What are you planning?"

Silas straightened himself, attempting to project a confidence and decisiveness he did not truly feel. "I plan on becoming a foster parent for Frisk."

All three of his friends sucked in air and leaned back. "Jesus," was all Chad said as he wiped his face with his hand.

"No really, it's perfect. You saw the same news reports, right? They're a foundling, bounced around from one home to another. Supposedly they attacked another kid in their class but look at them: they've barely made a peep since they showed up. They want to stay with the monsters, but without help that won't happen. So I take over as their foster parent. The government is too overworked as it is to care about the details as long as they aren't being abused, and after this stunt of theirs no one is going to try to adopt them before we can get the monsters' legal situation sorted out. Then the monsters adopt them and everyone gets a happy ending. It's the right thing to do." Saying it out loud convinced him it was.

Marty whistled. "Not for nothing, but I thought you hated kids."

Silas considered that. Was that the impression he gave off? "I don't think I can have a kid myself and wouldn't even if I could, but I don't have anything against children in general or Frisk in particular. They aren't a bad kid. But the system is failing them. I happen to have the resources and ingenuity to help them, so I will."

"And it's just that simple for you, huh?" Chad rubbed the back of his head and stared into the darkness. "Alright, alright, we'll get them set up at your place in the morning. We should probably be out of here before they do the morning check, we only paid for four people and now we've got ten. Besides, our food reserves are completely spent."

Silas nodded. "Good call. We'll need to get another car, probably a van or sport utility vehicle. Asgore isn't going to fit comfortably in anything but we'll need something large for him to fit at all. That means we should all start winding down and get some sleep."

* * *

Once everyone had gotten settled down the night passed uneventfully. The monsters elected to sleep under the stars, and Marty joined them after giving up his pup tent to Frisk. Silas could not really blame them; after so long without seeing the open sky they would not be in any hurry to say goodbye to it again. After only five hours of sleep Silas was awakened when Chad shook his tent. The two of them had to go all the way to the airport to rent a car so early in the morning, so it was almost dawn by the time they returned. From there they broke camp, a speedy task with so many hands to help, and were gone before the campgrounds opened for the day. Their deposit was lost, but that was the way it had to be.

Cities and towns in New Hampshire were generally not designed by a planner or committee; early settlers staked their claims where they felt like it and barring massive fires the same topography persisted through generations. The result was a mish-mash of curvy streets, haphazard zoning, contrivances like the jug handle and the rotary to put too many cars on too-thin roads, and a hundred other absurdities which would make a cartographer throw up their hands. Trees grew in a dense forest on each side of the road. Driveways cut into the woods, serving as lifelines to the houses set twenty or thirty feet back from the street. Even though it was a residential area it would not be possible to look through the foliage and see any of your neighbors from within one of these homes. The leaves were a couple weeks from their peak but still plenty impressive, and with warm days and crisp cool nights the color of the leaves popped. The trees were a rich tapestry of deep reds and vibrant yellows and a range of all the oranges in between. Asgore started weeping at the sight of them, while Alphys took photos with her cell phone and Undyne simply gaped with an open mouthed grin. "It's like the trees are exploding," she said in awe.

"They're really something, aren't they?" Silas grinned despite himself. "I picked a good time to come back to New England. They haven't peaked yet, but they will soon. We have only a month and a half or so left of this. Pretty soon the leaves will fall off and then the trees will be a lot less interesting to look at."

"Oh!" Susan added. "But then we get snow and ice storms in winter. They're beautiful too, like a landscape from another world!"

"No kidding!" Undyne said, marveling. "Ice storms! Sounds dangerous. Man, I think I am _really_ going to like it here!" Alphys made a quiet distressed sound. Was she cold blooded? She was a lizard, but… Silas put the question aside. It would be dangerous to make any assumptions about their biology.

Asgore wiped his eyes. "I… had forgotten how much I missed this. The trees, the colors, the air. To think, I had given up on ever seeing this again."

Silas blinked. "How long did you say you were trapped underground for?"

"A thousand years, give or take. We stopped keeping exact count some time ago."

So why did he sound like he was remembering a personal memory? The implication was too horrible to contemplate. Instead he focused on the road as they broke the treeline and faced the city proper. A sea of one-story buildings rose and crested like ocean waves frozen in mid-swell, following the natural contour of the hills. In the distance one could see the skyscrapers of the central business district, rising high above the trees and stores in their shadows. And further still on the plateaus one could see the yellow fields of the golden flowers.

Perhaps Silas should have been proud. This was his hometown after all and he was showing guests around. He felt it would have been appropriate to present it in grandiose terms. Weymouth! The city that tea built! But despite living here for the first 18 years of his life he held no special feelings, positive or negative, for this place. Weymouth was not large enough to have its own identity like Boston or New York, but it was too large to get away with describing it as "a simple New England town". Something should have been said, but nothing could be said. Silas simply continued driving, allowing the city to speak for itself.

* * *

Sans lay on his bed, forearm over his eyes. His body sunk into a depression formed by leaving a boulder of dirty laundry on his bed for weeks. A number of papers were strewn about him on the bed. He had not moved in… would it have been three hours now? Maybe four. Or maybe negative forty? He was unsure how one would even track that or whether there was a point. Probably not.

He picked up one of the papers and held it over his head to read it. The papers showed what appeared to be line graphs, each with a number of lines which branched off at several points. These branches would continue on for a time before the line would loop back around to return to the point of separation. Sans likened it the journey of a traveler who, shortly after realizing they had taken a wrong turn at a fork in the road, doubled back to continue down the other path. There were only a handful of people who could make any sense out of what these papers showed and he could count the number of people who fully understood it on one finger. It was a readout of the time-space continuum, an abstract representation of every possibility. At this level of detail he could only see the direction and magnitude of each individual timeline, not what they contained or what happened within them. He knew better than to try looking any closer. Wing Din Gaster had shown him the dangers of uncorking that particular genie's bottle. Preceding these paths was always something much more concerning: a single instant in time where a timeline, very far along, would zip all the way back instead of to the most recent branching point. From these points not one or two but several different pathways poked out from that single moment, most leading to those branches but a single one continuing farther and farther along, unimpeded and unstoppable until the next 'nexus point' as he called them. The earliest instance of these gnarled paths occurred about 27 years ago, more or less, and the most recent one was three days ago. He theorized each one to be the arrival of a new human to the underground, with two key exceptions. The first was that this phenomenon did not occur with Chara; whatever power allowed humans to travel through time Chara was the only one who either never had it or never used it. The second exception was about six months ago, where a new nexus formed but with no human to cause it. Was it a human who somehow got lost or blended in? Or did it have something to do with that flower that showed up at the barrier room?

He flicked the paper over to the side. Too much to think about. He grabbed at another sheet, the same one he always came back to lately. He looked over the printout again and again, each time willing it to show him something different. The sheet he was looking at was a complete mess of lines and loops, hundreds of pathways jutting out from a single instant in time. This nexus was three days ago, about the time he estimated Frisk arrived in the Underground. A few things stood out that was different from the others. There was one timeline which ended abruptly. It did not jump backward or loop or trail off, it simply ended. By his reckoning this would have happened yesterday; not this timeline, then. He did not have to think about what it meant, which was good because it gave him the willies. There was another which stretched on and on, all the way to the edge of perception. The one way out. In between were hundreds if not thousands of timelines which looped back to the nexus point, and of those nearly all of them were completed after the destruction of the barrier. Meaning the controller of the timeline, which he now knew was Frisk, decided to return to the point where they fell _after_ having freed the monsters. And then there was the final realization, the one which had made him turn on his heel and walk right back underground: of these timelines, more than half looped back after a mere three days.

He was not very good at calculating odds and percentages, but from his way of thinking the chances he was in that one lone escape timeline were very small and the chances he was in one of the ones which wouldn't last a week were very high. He double-checked the figures to confirm something. In just the last ten minutes he had been pondering all this, the world had passed through forty three jumps backward.

He crumpled the paper into a ball and hurled it across the room, not even caring enough to see whether it made it into the wastebasket (it did not, falling a half a foot short). At any moment, all of this would be gone. He would be in this room, the barrier would be back in place, and no one would have ever heard of Frisk. He had tested ways to retain his memories through the last nexus, but he failed. No matter what he was only able to remember the barest ghostly fragments of an alternate history, vague recollections that he had been somewhere or seen something before. He had not gotten that with Frisk, which suggested this timeline was the first. Someday, somehow, it was all going to be reset. Everyone would be back underground without any memory of it.

Why? What was the kid hoping to find? Part of him wanted to wrap his phalanges around Frisk's throat and squeeze until answers came shooting out their mouth, but for all he knew that was a trigger for starting over. The more he struggled to find some way of stopping this the closer the noose tightened. Any potential action or lack of action could be the trigger that ended everything. It was like trying to find your way through a maze, except every time you took a wrong turn you had to start over without any markers or memory of what path you took, only the knowledge that countless other yous in countless times and places had failed to navigate the maze properly. So he did what he always did: nothing. If either action or inaction was wrong, why struggle so hard? Better to just give up.

It would be easier if he could talk to those kids honestly. Lay everything out, every point of data and every wacky theory and hypothesis he had made since the sixth human first alerted him and Dr. Gaster to the existence of the anomalies. Maybe, if they combined their knowledge-

 _A rift in time and space. Red eyes. A joyless smile. 963._

\- no, he could not do that. He could never trust Frisk, not fully, not ever. But if that was the case, then what could he do?

He could feel his last point of HoPe flickering. Go away. Go away you vile thing! If he could just let it drop, if he could just Fall Down, it would be so much easier. But that decision was out of his hands, wasn't it? The last decision he would ever make was to believe Frisk meant well. He still did not know why he did it; all these resets proved the kid could not be trusted, and that was before taking the accident into account. But he had a promise to keep, and the kid asked for his support, and that was that. He was too damn soft.

Sans rolled over and closed his eyes. Two more days. If whatever caused Frisk to reset could hold off for two days, if he got through the worst of the series of resets, then maybe he could trust this timeline enough to leave the Underground.


	3. These Aren't Costumes

Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer, and no part of this fic should be taken as legal advice. In the event that you are arguing for the legal rights of a group of sentient non-humans attempting to join human society, following the opinions and interpretations of US law in this fic are completely at your own risk and I am in no way liable for any damages caused to you or your clients.

They drove up into a plaza with long brick buildings along the side of the road. Each building had a set of doors on both sides, each leading to a different person's abode while still granting privacy and a small garage to each resident. Chad drove Silas' sedan into the garage first to let Toriel and Papyrus out, then reversed to make room for Silas' behemoth of a vehicle. It was important to keep the monsters from being seen out in the open; monsters would need to control their debut as precisely as possible, and if their pictures ended up in the tabloids or on the internet before they were ready it would be impossible to predict the public's reaction. As Silas turned off the truck and stepped out he explained, "This is my father's condominium. He's letting me stay here while I pick myself back up. The agreement was, I would get a job in my field, pay rent, keep my head down, and stay out of trouble. That last one's probably not gonna happen." He twirled his key around his finger as he said the last part in a sing-song tone. "It might be a bit small for everyone, but if we're clever with the arrangement of pillows and blankets there should be enough room to sleep for a few nights. Let's see… Undyne or Papyrus, you can-"

"Don't worry about me!" the skeleton interrupted. "I don't sleep!"

Undyne agreed, "No, he really doesn't. Ever."

He unlocked the front door without dignifying that with a response. The interior of the condo was open concept, with only a change from carpet to tile marking where the living room ended and the kitchen began. The carpet was freshly vacuumed, the surfaces clear of dust, and the bookshelf organized by media alphabetically. It looked like a movie set or a hotel room, not somewhere people actually lived. A couch and a recliner faced the 48" television, everyone else would either have to take chairs from around the dining table or remain standing. "Make yourselves at home. I'm going upstairs to change, when I get back we can have breakfast then get down to business." Frisk made a beeline for the couch and flopped into the cushions face-first, snatching the remote control and clutching it to their chest. Dibs had been called. Susan joined them on the couch, giggling. Papyrus was drawn like a moth towards the shelf with board games stacked on top, while Alphys sidled towards the computer while trying to look nonchalant. Toriel and Undyne both headed for the kitchen and Asgore simply stood in the living room, sizing up the chair and quickly deciding he would never fit in it. Satisfied nobody would destroy anything while he was gone, Silas went upstairs to his bedroom.

He locked his bedroom door before peeling off his clothes and tossing them into the hamper. He washed his face, put fresh deodorant under his armpits, then started getting dressed like he was going to spend a day at the office: underwear, ankle-length argyle socks, binder, undershirt, white button-down shirt, belt, tie in a traditional half-Windsor knot, suit coat with slacks, and cufflinks to complete the look. He took a comb through his hair a few times to knock out any loose dust, debris, or twigs and to get his part right. Ah, that was much better. A well-tailored suit was like a second skin; he looked more like himself now then ever. Now if only he could grow that beard… well, sometimes you had to take what you could get. He took one last look in the mirror and smoothed out a wrinkle near his left shoulder before returning downstairs.

When he arrived Frisk was watching a cartoon on the television, though they were at least upright now. Asgore sat next to them in bright-eyed fascination. "So this is television," he marveled. "Remarkable!" Susan had given up her place on the couch for him and taken the recliner instead.

Silas could not stop himself before he asked, "You don't have television in the Underground?" Stupid stupid stupid, obviously they would not be able to receive a television signal underneath several meters of solid rock.

"We do," Undyne hedged. "But Asgore never owned one. And we didn't have stuff like this on normal television, just a variety show by Mettaton. I mean, anime and other human history stuff sometimes washes up from the Dump but it doesn't get beamed to everyone's TV." She looked him up and down and whistled. "Wow, you clean up nice!"

Asgore was either old-fashioned or kept too busy to watch TV. There was a monster television star named "Mettaton", implying there was a sizable television viewing audience as well as some semblance of an infrastructure to support it. Undyne lumped "anime" in as part of "human history"… he boggled at that one and decided he really did not want to think through the implications of it. "I thought you went to go make breakfast," he asked her instead.

Undyne growled, "Toriel pulled rank and kicked me out. Which is bullsh-" She was interrupted by a polite but firm "Ah ah ah!" coming from the kitchen. Frisk continued to face the television and pretended not to notice Undyne almost swore in front of them. "I mean, it's totally unfair. All I did was say human technology can't be that great, I mean your ovens only go up to 500 degrees! How do you cook anything?"

"Slowly and with great patience," he said in a deadpan.

"You said it!"

"Breakfast will be ready shortly!" Toriel called from the kitchen. "I hope you do not mind me using what was available. I am cooking some of these sausages as well as eggs and bacon. I was also going to make pancakes, but I think everyone is hungry enough that they don't want to wait for me to mix everything together."

"Sounds delectable," he agreed.

Not much later breakfast was served. The monsters (minus Toriel) were eating in the living room while the humans (minus Frisk) were seated around a small dining table. Toriel ate standing up in the kitchen while Frisk sat crosslegged on the living room floor, their back against the back of the couch.

Silas used the side of his fork to cut off a slice of over-hard egg and popped it into his mouth. He could tell immediately that something was wrong. As he chewed he could feel the bite get smaller and smaller in his mouth, and when he went to swallow it disappeared halfway down his throat. He glanced around the table. His friends were looking at him and at each other with wide eyes and somber faces. He must have looked the same to them. Susan broke the silence: "What does this mean?"

"What does what mean?" Toriel asked. "Why are you making such frightful faces? Did I make a mistake in cooking…?"

"Not a mistake, _per se_ ," Silas assured her, though his expression was still grave. "It's… the food you made. It began dissolving as soon as it was in my mouth. I'm sure it never hit my stomach, either. It's just like…"

"Like golden flower tea," Chad finished for him, his expression thoughtful.

Asgore started. "Golden flower…?"

Silas explained, "A few decades ago someone found out a flower that only grows around here has unique properties when dried and boiled. The tea tastes fine enough, but it also dissipates shortly after being swallowed and provides a burst of energy quite unlike anything else. No one has figured why it does this, but the demand for it is incredible. It transformed Weymouth from a common town to a bustling city nearly overnight."

Alphys broke the yolk of her eggs and stirred it around with her fork. "Th-then… the flower must be partially magic if tea made from its leaves acts like monster food even on the surface."

"Monster food?" Marty asked, looking at the sausage and bacon dubiously. "You mean…?"

"E-exposure to magic either in the growing or cooking process turns regular food into monster food," Alphys explained, continuing to stare at her plate. "Rather than being digested, as soon as it enters the body it breaks down immediately into energy and nutrients and is absorbed directly. The body sends the energy to where it is most needed, which is where the food's regenerative effects come from. A-Anecdotal evidence suggests there's no negative effects even over a period of months or years."

Silas would have appreciated the warning before putting it in his mouth, but in the end no harm done. As he chewed he realized that was the first time Silas heard Alphys string more than a couple words together. She must be one of those people who would rather not talk unless it was about one of their areas of expertise. He cut a sausage link in half with his fork and speared it, continuing to eat while his mind worked. An explanation for how golden flower tea worked was useful, but an entire line of food which had the same effects as the tea could open up an entirely new industry completely dependent on monsters. Winning over hearts and minds was one thing, but that was vulnerable to shifting allegiances or bad press. When the world needs a product only you can offer it is much harder for them to cut you out. It could also be done quickly if they could prove it was the same kind of effect as golden flower tea; the tea had passed all the health and safety testing years ago, so monster food could piggyback off that work. Still, the tea moguls of Weymouth would have many complaints to register. They would not appreciate their business being stolen out from under them. Why settle for tea when your entire diet could consist of-

His fork scratched against his empty plate. He blinked out of his reverie to notice his breakfast was gone. That was odd, he did not think he was eating that fast. Or had he really been that out of sorts? Now that he thought of it, he had been forced to awaken early. And there was still so much to do. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a very long day.

—

Privacy was impossible when so many were in such close proximity so this meeting could not be as secret as he liked. But he, Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk could barely fit around the small kitchen table and that was the only remotely professional seating arrangement he could make while being out of everyone else's way. Papyrus had taken command of the television and switched it to a local news station, furiously writing notes in ALL CAPS on a spare notebook. Undyne, Marty, and Chad were busy cleaning out the study while Susan supervised; Silas had given her special instruction to watch the fish-woman closely and not to let her do any damage to the property. Alphys typed away on the computer nestled off in a corner of the living room, oblivious to the outside world. That covered everyone. All right, on to business then. He had put this off for long enough. "We need to set some immediate goals and expectations. Tell me what you want and I'll tell you how realistic it is. It might take weeks or months to work everything out, but if we lay out the basics first it will form a road map for the process. But first…" He gestured with his chin to the eight-year old sitting to his right. "We have to talk about the kid."

"About Frisk?" Toriel asked worriedly. The child paled but said nothing. They knew what was coming, they must have eavesdropped in on conversations like this many times before. "Why must we?"

"I can tell you care about them and would like to keep them close to you. I asked them last night and they share that feeling. But here's the problem. Frisk is a foster child, meaning they have no parents of their own. Instead they are given over to volunteers to assist in raising them, sometimes for several years but usually for much shorter periods of time. During this time a family could formally adopt them as their own child after going through a lengthy approval process."

Toriel nodded, finally grasping the solution and wondering why Silas was being so serious. "Then we would like to adopt Frisk."

He ruthlessly cut her down: "Not happening. Even if you were human a single mother would have a tough time convincing Child Services they can adequately care for a child. You aren't officially recognized as citizens so even that option is closed to you. I'm… going to be frank. It is not up to us, and not up to the child, what happens to them once we come forward with them. If the government wants to ship them upstate they'll be gone and there would be nothing we could do about it. And we do have to let the state know they are no longer missing; if we hold onto them without reporting them we may get charged with kidnapping." He paused to let that sink in then turned to the child. "But. There is a rather unorthodox method I could use, if you trust me. It's not something most people would think of, and for good reason."

Toriel's eyes narrowed. "I should hope you are not asking us to do anything illegal."

"No, not illegal, but not exactly above-board either. More like quasi-legal. New Hampshire law requires any foster parent have a room set aside just for the child; to that end I want to clean out my study and send Marty and Chad to pick up a bedframe, mattress, and a dresser. I'll convert the study into a bedroom for Frisk and become their temporary foster parent. Once you're in a position to adopt them we can do that. But to pull it off we need to move fast and we'll need the governor's help to streamline the process. I'll use my father's connections to discuss things with him personally regarding Frisk and your people's integration. You let me do the talking, that way if anything goes wrong I'll get the blame for it, not you. I won't say anything to restrict your options in the future if I can avoid it, which is why we need to discuss your broad goals as well. I don't plan on becoming the face of monster-human relations and wouldn't take the job if you offered it, but I will see this through. For Frisk's sake if nothing else."

Asgore's eyes shone with barely restrained tears. "You would do this much for us?" There was no trace of doubt, only a forlorn hope. Frisk was looking at him slack-jawed, the corners of their mouth twitching as if ready to smile but still not daring to believe in it.

Silas inhaled through his nose once, slowly, then nodded. "I would have tried something with Frisk even if you weren't involved. Call it sympathy for hard-luck cases." It was a good deal more complicated than that but there was no need to go into details at the moment. "Your appearance just so happens to give me some extra leverage I can use to make it happen."

He then outlined his plan. It was somewhat risky, but Silas had a high level of confidence in it. Asgore was clearly taken aback. "Why must we go in such a roundabout way? Surely if we explained the situation to your governor and appealed to his kindness and love for his people he will surely do what is right for Frisk."

It would be adorable if it were not so maddeningly naive. "With all due respect, in a democratic republic nobody ends up in a position of power because of their love for the people. They get it because they want the power, fight for it, and win it from others who want it just as badly as they do. If we want the governor to do us a favor we have to make him see why it's in his best interests to play ball."

"Well," Asgore said. "Perhaps there is another solution. We have been a sovereign kingdom for well over a thousand years. Wouldn't it be possible for Frisk to become a citizen of the Kingdom of Monsters and bypass all this?"

"That's not going to happen either." Silas looked Asgore in the eye. "In theory all it takes is a permanent population, a unified government, and defined territory to declare sovereignty. In practice it requires you to be recognized by the United Nations or you won't be able to enter diplomatic negotiations with other sovereign nations. You have no political allies in the world of humans, and the land you are trying to claim as part of your new nation already belongs to a nation with veto power over the decisions of the other 200. It would be an undertaking of decades, and if you don't want Frisk to disappear back into the system you have maybe a couple days to snag them by hook or by crook. Otherwise the first exposure to your 'kingdom' the humans will get is that you've kidnapped a child. The only way to secure them in any reasonable timeframe is to use monster citizenship as a bargaining chip, and that requires forfeiting your kingdom. Your title or the child, which is it going to be your majesty?"

No hesitation: "If my crown is the weregild for Frisk I pay it gladly."

Silas nodded. "Good. Because I made it sound like a choice but you actually don't have one. If you insisted on remaining the Kingdom of Monsters there was an inside chance the United States government would consider you an invading force. Instead we're going to frame you and your people as a kind of domestic refugee. That will make things easier in the short term, but it will mean a delay as the state and federal governments play hot potato with your legal rights. We have legal means to ensure you get your rights eventually, but we'll have to deal with that as it comes." He looked around the table to see determined faces staring back at him… but not from the child themself. Frisk kept their head down, kneading their hands together nervously. Had Silas done something to upset them?

"Hey Silas!" Susan poked her head into the dining room. "We're done emptying out your study. So can I borrow that huge truck? I wanna go check out their home in the mountain. Undyne's gonna come with, we'll be gone most of the day I think. Might not be back until tomorrow."

Silas stared at her face and frowned. He held up a finger and asked, "Toriel, Asgore. Can you give me a moment?" He stood up without waiting for the Boss Monsters to acquiesce and took Susan around the corner. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As soon as he was out of sight of the monsters he whispered, "What are you doing? You met Undyne just yesterday and she's already about to take you home? Even you don't move this fast."

Susan laughed, not even trying to regulate her volume. "It's not like that, silly! I just want to know more about them. I mean, isn't this interesting? It's like meeting aliens but a thousand times better because they've been here all along, literally right under our feet! I want to, you know, 'strike while the iron's hot'! There's so much we need to catch up on so it makes sense to split up and approach from different angles, you know?"

He had to admit she had a point, but once again she was not considering all the facets of the situation. "I know I can't change your mind but I'm going to warn you about one thing: don't give your heart to them."

She blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

His eyes flashed a warning. "You know how you get."

Despite his tone she brushed off his concern with a laugh. "C'mon Sai, I just told you it's not like that."

When had she started calling him 'Sai'? Later, deal with it later. "They're hiding something. I don't know what it is yet but it's something bad. No matter how vile it is I can put my personal feelings aside and continue to advocate for them, but I know you and it will tear you up inside to even think about that choice, let alone make it." He exhaled, his eyes pleading. "Try to control yourself. I don't want you to fall in love with their good side only to get hurt when you see their bad side. Or worse, watch you fall into utter denial about their bad side while they take advantage of you."

Susan crossed her arms and her smile thinned. "Yeah, you know what? I'm not gonna let that slide. _You_ _'re_ telling _me_ not to get attached? You're ready to foster a kid for them!"

Damn, she had him there. "I am… I'm not doing that for them, necessarily. Frisk has been through a lot and deserves a good home. If they want to stay with the monsters and I have a way to do that I should oblige them. I imagine the monsters will do most of the work raising them and I'm just temporarily handling the legal side of things. I'm giving the child the home they want with the people they want, isn't that what's important? As long as we keep our noses clean and the kid stays happy there won't be a problem."

It sounded like a good argument to him but Susan's lips curled downward and she shook her head. "I know you think you're doing something kind. But the way you said that… it gives me a really bad feeling." She turned as if she could see through the wall and stare into the back of Frisk's head. "That kid needs love. They need stability. It won't matter to them that it's some legal maneuver, if you're their foster parent it can't be in name only. In their eyes you'll be their guardian for however long it takes. You can't pretend it doesn't mean anything. And you can't disappear from their life even after Toriel and Asgore have adopted them, especially if you're going to keep working with the monsters. I know it seems like such a small thing to you compared to what your goal is, but think about how they'll feel. Please, don't do that to them."

There she went again, letting sentimentality get in the way of practical solutions. "You're overreacting. They're a smart kid, they'll know not to depend on me. Besides, most foster parents do simply vanish from the child's life after they got adopted, right? I don't see why they should get so attached to me." She did not immediately respond, exhaling a shaky breath through her nostrils. "As far as borrowing the truck goes, I don't know when the other two are coming back with the SUV and I'll need it to transport Toriel and Asgore when it comes time to meet the governor. Take my sedan instead." He held out the keys and Susan eyed them for a moment before snatching them from his hand.

"I hope you know what you're doing. I really do." Cheeriness and volume returned to her voice as she called out, "I got 'em, Undyne. Let's roll!" She disappeared down the hall and towards the scream of _"YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAH!"_ which cut through the thin walls.

Silas took a moment to recollect his thoughts and straighten his coat. Now, where were they? He returned to the dining table where the Boss Monsters were pretending they had not been eavesdropping. Or maybe they actually hadn't been? Their faces, smiling innocently, were a little harder to read than a human face. Or at least a typical human face; Frisk's blank expression and closed eyes were an outlier. "So, adoption. What I have in mind will not be a perfect solution. You will need to go through the process to adopt Frisk as soon as you have the right to apply, and it could take anywhere from 10 to 30 days. By that time you will have enough of a public rapport with me and I will have enough experience with Frisk that if I endorse the adoption it will go through. Until then, the only thing we'll have to worry about is if their biological parents show up and try to claim them."

Toriel stiffened. "Can they do that?"

"They can if they dare. They abandoned Frisk at birth, that's a crime. And since they did not claim them within 90 days of leaving them at the hospital they surrendered their parental rights." Silas folded his hands together and frowned. "My specialty is criminal and not family law, but… I'm not going to sugarcoat this. In practice, outside of gross abuse or negligence courts almost always side with the biological parents in any custody disputes if they show even a modicum of contrition, especially if the alternative is to leave the child in foster care. I do not know of any legal way to keep Frisk away from their biological parents if they show up and no way to hide them. An eight year old child with Frisk's complexion and red eyes who was on local news recently will not be difficult to find if anyone is looking. Our best hope is that they are out of the picture; if they are dead, have left the area, or they have not reconsidered their actions that would be ideal for us. Regardless of how certain their ability to reclaim the child would be, they would also suffer the social stigma of being known as parents who abandoned their child. Even if they wished to reclaim them they may be too frightened to. Nonetheless, it is a risk."

Asgore and Toriel shared a look. "… I see," Asgore said finally. "In that case, we will trust to luck."

Silas nodded. "Alright. Now that we have that out of the way, let's discuss your plan for moving to the surface. It will be difficult to find enough space to rent, so you may have to build your own homes. You will need to purchase the land around the mountain and hire additional help for construction and moving. At the very least you'll need a professional on zoning laws and building codes to build domiciles that will pass inspection. I assume the, er, Kingdom of Monsters does not use US currency?"

Asgore shook his head and reached into his robe. "Not many of your coins fall down into the dump. I suspect the grand total of all the legal tender in the entire kingdom amounts to a few hundred cents and maybe three of your dollars. For several hundred years the kingdom has used these for money." He produced a yellow coin and placed it on the table with a clink. The side facing up had a view of Asgore in profile and no letters, and the sides were ridged. It looked like it belonged in a child's playset.

Silas exhaled and reached for the coin to inspect it closer. "I suspected as much. Here on the surface they are probably only worth the value of the base-" He stopped when he picked it up, testing the weight in his hands. It was heavy, much heavier than he expected it to be. He peered at the coin closer, noticing the glint of the light off the smooth surface. Could it be…? He bit into the coin with his canines and inspected the dimples his teeth left. "You… you're serious. You use this for money?"

Asgore nodded. "We could not find many other uses for it; it is too soft and pliable to build anything with it, and while beautiful it serves no purpose. Some areas such as the Last Hallway are plated in this metal, but most of it goes into our currency."

Silas wiped his face with his hand, breathing hard. "And… how much of this metal is there in your kingdom? Total?"

Asgore stroked his beard and looked up at the ceiling. "About thirty years ago we began stockpiling money in anticipation of needing funds for laborers, warriors, smiths, and other professions for when the barrier was destroyed. In our treasury we currently have… I believe I am using your measurements correctly, but about fifteen tons? Many thousands of pounds, at least."

His breath became short. His hands shivered and the coin fell with a clunk to the table. Fifteen tons. Fifteen tons of solid gold, not even counting what they used for decorative purposes or any coins still in circulation. Fifteen tons! Did they have any idea what humans would do to get their hands on that much gold? What humans had done in the past for even a fraction of that?

"Silas, are you quite alright?" Toriel asked. "You seem very pale suddenly."

Silas squeezed his eyes shut. Focus. Focus. Fifteen tons of gold could not be converted to money easily. Selling that much gold on the open market all at once would trigger a market panic and sharply decrease the value of the remaining stock in the world. Not to mention it was a lot for a single person but not much for a potential nation. Split however many ways between all the monsters it was not much at all. Now that he thought of it, though… He let his hands fall and licked his lips. "How many of you are there? Monsters, in the Underground?"

If Asgore was perplexed by the sudden change of topic he hid it well. "As of our last census, I believe the population of the Underground was 13,000. This does not include the population of the Ruins, which had until recently been sealed and unavailable for proper counting. In the past we have estimated the population there to be 2,000 give or take."

Silas was seeing spots. Fifteen thousand monsters. That was nearly half again the population of Weymouth. How the hell did you prepare a city to experience 50% population growth in a day? "And they all want to come out from under the mountain?"

"Most of them wish to come up to the surface. Some do not, but they are a minority."

Maybe Chad was right. Maybe Silas really had bitten off more than he could chew. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. No, no, he could still do this. There were ways to convince the governor this was actually a good thing. He would hate himself for making those arguments, but to bring someone odious around to your way of thinking you sometimes had to use odious logic. "Alright. We can hammer out how to convert your coins to legal tender in a way which won't upset the markets. Until then don't tell anybody about it. In addition I _think_ I can use that gold of yours to get your people full ownership of the mountain; the laws concerning mining rights of precious metals are still governed by 19th century laws which means there are probably loopholes I could drive a truck through. Not to mention that money will buy a lot of influence and favors, if it's cultivated properly." He tapped his chin. "That's going to be the key factor in all of this. I think your chances are good for getting on the surface; you are thinking, feeling, sapient beings, and so most human rights laws will protect you. But there's a large difference between being legally allowed to participate in society and being freely accepted. I think… magic will be the key to that. It's a unique ability monsters have that humans don't, so if there are ways it can be used to improve the economy that will be your 'in'. Unfortunately, you'll have to come up with that on your own; you have a better idea of what magic can and can't do, so as you learn more about the surface see if you can find ways of improving the lives of ordinary people. Ideally without the person being benefited having to use magic themselves."

"I see," Asgore said. "That is… quite a tall order. I will see what we come up with."

"Closer to my specialty, I also foresee some fear about magic from common people. You said last night magic was not an effective weapon. But that implies it _can_ be used as a weapon, however poor and inefficient it is?"

Toriel sucked in air. A sensitive subject? "Yes. Yes, that is true. The most basic expression of magic is called a 'bullet'. It's a small clump of magic whose visual appearance and path through the air can be determined by its creator. They allow us to communicate and express ourselves, but even the smallest and weakest bullet can be deadly to a human. You see, the magic in our bodies can absorb the magic in the bullet, so it is not dangerous to us unless the monster means to do harm. But human bodies are different. They resist magic, so being struck by a bullet causes pain and temporary paralysis depending on the strength of the bullet. Other types of magic are also less effective; fire magic can singe clothing but can't burn away flesh, green bullets can heal wounds but not very effectively, and so on. The exception is the soul. The human soul is very weak to magic. Being struck with a bullet there is deadly, even if the monster does not mean any harm at all."

Silas crossed his arms. "And you didn't mention it before because you knew Chad wouldn't accept that explanation."

Toriel lowered her head. "It was not my intention to deceive you. This is why we did not attempt to demonstrate our magic on any of you; even the smallest chance of something going wrong was intolerable."

Asgore coughed, joining the conversation. "Obviously, there is a need to educate monsters about being safe and conscious of their magic field and bullets. Previously we wrote some materials to this end. Some of our guidelines are thirty years old or so but should not need significant updating. Completion of the education program will be compulsory for any monster who wishes to live on the surface. We have a law underground, where using bullets is not allowed in public areas within city limits. I suggest the human government pass a similar law."

Silas nodded. "That makes sense. Existing law concerning the use of deadly weapons should be broad enough to cover magic. I suspect either the courts will rule expanding a magic field should be treated similarly to threatening use or congress will pass a law to that effect. Speaking of law, does magic leave any kind of forensic evidence behind? Telltale marks on the body, a leftover odor or residue in the air, anything like that?"

Asgore sadly shook his head. "Not to our knowledge; magic does its work and it is gone."

The lawyer part of Silas sighed deeply. "That… could be a problem. I would strongly advise you don't start teaching the rest of humanity about magic until we've found some way to track its use. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but humans can get violent even against each other and I would rather not hand them a murder weapon which leaves no traces."

"Not no traces," Asgore said darkly. "Not for murder. There is, in fact, a way for us to track killers not just done by magic but by any method: LOVE."

Love. What the hell. "This is, of course, your idea of a joke."

Frisk shook their head and spoke up for the first time in a while, excited to be part of the conversation. "It's true! It's an… ac-ro-nim. It means 'Level of Violence'. The monsters have a machine that can look at your soul and see all sorts of stuff about you. One thing it can see is LOVE; it starts at 1, and if you kill someone it goes up. It's because of icksa… egg-za…" Their face scrunched up and their lower lip trembled, their enthusiasm visibly draining.

Toriel touched Frisk's shoulder. "Thank you for stepping in. You are too young to know of these things, child, but I cannot unteach what you have learned." She returned her attention to Silas. "If you kill someone, your execution points increase. They're a stain on your soul which never goes away. And when you gain enough, your LOVE increases."

A thousand questions came to Silas at once and he was powerless to keep them under control. "Under what circumstances? Does the manner of killing affect the execution points gained? What about feelings of antipathy toward the target, does killing a stranger accrue less than a friend or close family member? Does it only apply to killing humans and monsters, or does killing a deer or swatting a mosquito count? What if-"

"Please!" Asgore held up a hand. "We understand the general rules of EXP and LOVE, but we have had no desire or opportunity to tease out all its nuances. You may need to ask… well, our former Royal Scientist for the most detailed information we have."

Silas exhaled. "I apologize. I'm a defense attorney, so I thought about how it would affect my work. If someone having a LOVE of one can prove they've never killed anyone it would be a massive breakthrough in avoiding false convictions. But if it can be circumvented, if there are ways of killing someone without increasing your execution points, then it might be better for it not to be brought up in that context. I… realize it is not germane to our current discussion, I'll revisit it later. We were talking about magic. You said humans once had magic. How are you so sure?"

"The barrier that kept us trapped underground was created by human magic users," Asgore rumbled. "That is a fact. But it is also a fact they cannot use it now. The knowledge may have been lost, or the power was limited to certain bloodlines which have since died out. Or perhaps it was something else. But we believe humans can have magic once again, if humans and monsters work together."

"Giving them the power to seal you up again?"

"If humans did not have the ability to seal us away, we would have been destroyed. We cannot win a war against humanity, Silas. We could not fight then and we would fare no better now. No matter what we look like or what powers we have, believe me when I say this. So if things don't go well…" For the first time since they met Asgore looked as old as the monsters had implied. His smile was thin and creased with sorrow. "…Perhaps my people would prefer extinction to darkness but I would still have them offered the choice."

The air was heavy with something terrible and unsaid. Was Silas being naive? He was under the impression that he was simply greasing the wheels, that the rights of monsters were a foregone conclusion he was merely helping along. But the monsters thought humanity might wipe them out entirely. Were their terrors overblown? Or did they have good reason to fear genocide? "I think we need a break," he huffed. To his delight nobody objected. "We're not done, not by a longshot. There's still the logistics of moving everyone out, the social engineering of making your debut to humanity, and a thousand other things. But there's no way we're going to plan it all out in an afternoon so let's try to pace ourselves. In the meantime, we'll start getting Frisk taken care of. The longer we keep them without the state knowing about them, the worse it will be for everyone." He pulled out his phone and turned the forward facing camera on. "Toriel, Asgore. And you too, Papyrus. Come here. We're going to take a picture and send it to my father. He can get us an audience with Governor Patrick "

Asgore smiled warmly. "You really trust him. Your father."

The human scoffed. "I trust him not to let this go public or make a scene. He prides himself on his reputation and hates scandal more than anything. I am probably going to be in trouble with him for a very long time, but for the moment he will do what I wish." He snapped a photo of himself being dwarfed by the monsters; Silas with a stern expression, Toriel smiling beatifically, Asgore looking a bit sheepish, and Papyrus over Silas' shoulder giving the camera a thumbs-up. He attached the photo to an email. In the body of the message Silas explained who the people with him were and what he wanted. He thought for a moment about the title, but realized there was really only one thing he could say to prepare his father for what lay inside.

'These aren't costumes.'

AN: The population of monsters was estimated by assuming finishing Mettaton's boss fight with ratings over 12,000 captures nearly 100% of his potential audience, with the television ownership rate in the Underground estimated at 80% (slightly more than the worldwide rate of 79% of total households).


	4. Susan Liao's Underground Tour

_The young girl stepped off the school bus, her pink backpack complementing her thick cyan winter coat. She clung to the straps with mittened hands, only releasing it to wave big and wide when she spotted the other girls in her class. She hurried over and was immediately beset by greetings and requests._

" _Heeeeeeeey! Susan, over here!"_

" _Have you seen that cartoon yet, Susan? You know, the one I told you about the other day!"_

" _Ugh, Necco wafers again? Hey Susan, wanna trade snacks?"_

 _The child scrunched up her face, enthusiasm momentarily deflated._ _"That's not my name… it's Shuchun."_

 _It did not matter how often she repeated it. The other children could never get the pronunciation right. Shushin_ _', SOO-chin, Shi-shin… once Martin even pronounced it 'Seschuan', like the chicken. Eventually the kids all gave up and called her Susan._ _Her mother did not understand her frustration. Indeed she was delighted, thinking the other children had given her daughter a nickname to celebrate her inclusion. She was fitting in with the other kids despite being the only Chinese girl in the whole school! Shuchun did not have the heart to tell her that was not it at all. It was an easier name. A normal name. And therefore a more correct name._

 _It was not like she was being bullied. The other kids liked her, they thought she was fun. But that just made it worse in her mind. She could understand it if they were trying to be mean, but they really seemed to think they were doing her a favor by taking her name away from her. Or else they cared enough to be her friend but not enough to get her name right? It made no sense._

 _The bell to start the school day rung and all the first graders hurried into the building. Right away there was a nasty surprise: a substitute. By this time of the year the teacher could simply look over the assembled kids and instantly know who was there and who was missing. But they had a substitute teacher today, and that meant everyone had to stay completely still while the sub slooooooowly looked down the list of names, read off each one, verified the student, checked off the name, and only then went on to the next one. What their normal teacher could do in thirty seconds it would take the sub at least five minutes. Worst of all, a sub meant_ _…_

" _Cindy Lancaster?"_

" _Here."_

" _Thomas Leader?"_

" _Here."_

 _The sub frowned at the next name, adjusting his bifocals which were a poor fit for a face so young. He looked out among the sea of heads with a wince, focusing on Shuchun._ _"Miss… Lee-ay-ow? I'm so sorry, how do I pronounce this?"_

 _She sighed before lifting her hand. Why fight it?_ _"I'm here. You can call me Susan, everyone does."_

* * *

Susan remembered thinking about the legend, the one about travelers climbing Mt. Ebott not returning, when she first heard about Frisk's disappearance. Since time immemorial it was something elementary schoolers believed in, a ghost story for a place with no lack of them. But of course, the mountain was no more or less dangerous than any other densely forested mountain with no significant settlements near it. It was not uncommon for hikers to get lost there, but the local rangers had mapped out the place with considerably more care than other local mountains specifically to head off rumors of its danger. She blamed that expose from two years ago. In response to a child who ran away from home some muckraker had compiled a list of other missing Weymouth children in the previous twenty three years, highlighted their complicated home situations, and implied they went to Ebott to disappear based on hearsay and flimsy evidence. It had been a rumor among kids since she had been in elementary school, but the program exposed the legend to the world of adults. Now even people as far away as Connecticut spoke in hushed whispers of the 'cursed mountain'. It certainly did not help that the mountain had already become famous back when the Forest Service released their findings that Mount Ebott was the epicenter of the golden flower habitat and they would not grow outside a 20 mile range of it. So she was a little bit skeptical of the claim of a wide cavern opening leading almost directly into the King's throne room and asked if Undyne could lead her there. Undyne agreed and they left while Silas and the Boss Monsters dealt with the boring parts. Leave the talking to people who liked talking, she was not about to lose out on a chance for an adventure!

She drove Undyne to the foot of a hiking trail and parked Silas' car there. The whole way up the mountain Undyne marveled at the simplest things, from the variety of trees to the chirping birds to the buzzing insects. Susan had to stifle a laugh when Undyne tried to speak to one of the birds and became mortally offended when it did not respond. She kept herself from flying off the handle and spearing them but her screaming at least kept all the other animals away. After having the concept of unintelligent animals explained to her Undyne was a bit sheepish: "How was I supposed to know some things don't talk back? There's lots of monsters this small that are still pretty smart!"

Susan grinned at her. "The culture shock is real." Undyne raised an eyebrow, but that did nothing to dent Susan's mood. She was going to have so much fun introducing the monsters to memes.

Susan was dressed seasonably, a dark blue windbreaker worn over a three-sizes-too-large flannel shirt and jeans. She had not returned to her parent's house for any changes of clothes but she had been planning on spending the weekend outdoors in mid-September, after all. She had a heavier winter coat tied by the sleeves around her waist; Undyne insisted she would need it for 'Snowdin', one of the major living hubs of the Underground along with New Home, Hotland, and the Ruins. Due to the massive temperature difference the names Snowdin and Hotland suggested, it would probably not be possible to dress comfortably for one without the other threatening her life. So she dressed for the surface weather and brought a heavier coat for the cold, reasoning that would make her uncomfortable but safe in either place.

They were only hiking for half an hour before the mouth of the cave came into view. "How could they have missed this?" Susan said as she peered up the slope. It did not seem like a well-hidden feature; it was in the side of the mountain, clearly visible through the trees from some distance away. It was not around a blind corner, nor did the shadows conceal the mouth of the cave. Heck, one could even make out a worn path between the trees leading up to it. So how? How had cartographers and travelers missed this cave for decades? But they must have; it did not have the look of something recently blasted out of the mountainside, and any working crew capable of digging this out surely would have attracted attention. Maybe it had been covered by magic. Magic could do that, surely.

Once she reached the opening she pulled out her flashlight and clicked it on. Even with her weak beam of light she could see the rough cave walls abruptly gave way to a polished hallway just a few feet inside. Undyne seemed leery of walking back in, as though she was afraid the barrier would slam right back into place and trap her again, but followed at a comfortable distance. Just as the scent of fresh air began to fade and be replaced with a musty odor Susan reached a large open chamber that looked like it was in the middle of being renovated. Rock fragments and debris were scattered across the ground, and the decorative pillars had sizable chunks missing. Even the walls had not escaped unscathed; the far wall had two holes in it, one round and charred at the edges and the other a silhouette of someone tall and thin. The wall on the right also had a hole, if by "hole" one meant "the entire wall was missing". Far below was a cityscape stretching to the edge of the cavern. While the architecture was crude and basic, the buildings almost brutalist in design, the sheer scope of it was breathtaking. If Susan squinted she could see monsters of many shapes and sizes down below walking to and from work, going to market, and in general going about the business of their day. "How long have you lived down here?" Susan asked Undyne as she pulled out her cellphone.

The fish-woman shrugged in response. "Dunno. A thousand years maybe? I wasn't around for most of it, and after a while everyone stopped counting. It got kinda depressing after a while. But you can feel the tension from all the way up here, right? They all know the barrier's gone. Everyone is excited to see the world. They're just waiting for us to tell them the good news. Or… you know. Waiting for a whole bunch of humans to rush in and start killing them all. Either or." Undyne pretended not to notice Susan staring at her and continued on to the throne room.

Susan resolved to take pictures of this room on her way out, for now she had to rush a bit to catch up with Undyne. The flannel shirt hung halfway down her legs, low enough to either restrict her legs or rip the shirt if she tried to run full-tilt. "Why do you think humans are going to kill you all?"

"Because humans locked us down here to begin with!" Undyne pointedly averted her face away from Susan. "The humans attacked without warning and slaughtered us by the hundreds! They stuffed the survivors down here and seven human wizards put the barrier in place so we'd never get out! Don't you know any of this? Don't humans have their own stories?"

Susan shook her head. "No. I've never heard anything about this. I mean, there's… heh, there's this stupid legend that travelers who climb Mt. Ebott don't return, but only kids believe it. And there's certainly nothing about monsters or a war or-" She stopped when she entered the throne room. The ground extending from the throne for several feet was covered in golden flowers. She had heard of golden flowers, of course, they were a special local flora. But most of the fields had either been blocked off by environmentalists or the tea moguls so it was rare to see more than the one or two which escaped their clutches to grow between cracks in the sidewalk or on a patch of ground no one actively cared for. Shafts of light streamed in from above to give the room an otherworldly appearance. The full majesty of it would not come out in a photo but she took pictures anyway, stowing her flashlight to give her a free hand. "So pretty…"

"This's the garden," Undyne explained. "Asgore spent lots of time here, caring for the flowers. He even set his throne here." She pointed to the chair at the center of the flowers, well-made but simple. It was not even particularly large once one considered who was supposed to sit in it.

"A garden?" Susan knelt down to touch a petal. Something was wrong about that word being used to describe this place. A garden was controlled, carefully maintained. This looked more like a field where the flowers were allowed to grow wherever and however they liked. There was something else too, something she could not put into words. A garden is supposed to fill the observer with wonder, or with an appreciation for beauty. But when she saw this field, with flowers growing over and under and into each other, she only felt sad. Why was that? "I don't want him to get mad at us for stepping on them. Let's go around." She carefully crept along the edges, Undyne just behind.

On the other side of the flower field was a doorway into a hall at a T-intersection. Hm, a fork in the road. The path to the right looked more well-traveled. That was probably the exit. A smile crept into her face. Explore all the side paths before continuing on with the plot! That was how you got 100% completion in games and in life! She dashed off to the left and down the set of stairs, ignoring the squawks of panic and outrage from her companion.

"Y-you shouldn't go far!" Undyne said hurrying after her.

"Asgore said I could look around!" She picked up her pace and scampered down a long stairwell. The basement! This is where the dungeon would be in a medieval castle! She wondered if monsters had any political prisoners they were keeping here, or enemies of the state, or maybe torture implements! She wondered if monsters could even be tortured since their anatomy varied so widely, but-

There was no dungeon. No bars or cells, no racks or whips or pokers or anything like that. The small basement was completely unfurnished save for seven wooden boxes in a long hexagonal shape, six of them with the lids pried open and set on the side. They were all empty. "Are these coffins?" It was a stupid question, what else could they be? Each of them was an identical shape, size, and style, wood painted gray with little in the way of cushioning or design on the inside and marked only with a colored heart on the top. Only the closed one with a red heart on top was labeled with a name: 'Chara'. Without asking for permission Susan grabbed onto the lid of this one and pulled up, the top flying off easily as it had not been sealed or locked in any way. This, too, was empty save for a few bandages like mummy wrappings. She turned to look back at her companion, who looked just as stunned as she was. "Undyne, why does your king have seven empty coffins in his basement?"

Undyne regained her composure but averted her gaze. "That's… something you'd have to ask him about."

Susan traced her fingers over the name. "Who was Chara?"

"That's something you'd have to ask him about." The words were the same but this time they were squeezed out between clenched teeth. Susan took the hint and stopped asking questions. Instead she snapped more photos. Undyne was clearly not enthusiastic about this, either. "Hey, what the hell?!"

"I'm not posting any of these publicly but Silas is going to want to see this," Susan explained. "Or what, are you going to kill me to keep me quiet?" Undyne balked at the word 'kill', her face becoming pale. Susan only nodded. "Yeah, I thought so. There's nothing wrong with an empty coffin, it's just weird. I'm sure Asgore has an explanation for it and I'm sure it's perfectly innocent." She took a few more photos, mostly to confirm the coffins really were empty. She sent them to Silas, or at least she attempted to. Being under the earth gave one a very poor signal. Ah well, it would send automatically when she was back above ground.

Undyne clenched and unclenched her fist. "Hey. Is that something humans do? Do they… would you really kill someone just to protect a secret?"

It took Susan a moment to answer. She had never really thought about that before. "I wouldn't," she said. "I don't know anyone who would. But it comes up a lot in movies and on TV, that there are some secrets so terrible that people would kill to prevent anyone from knowing about it. There must be people like that or we wouldn't be so quick to accept it." Undyne nodded, though her frown suggested there was something about that logic she thought dubious. "Alright, let's go back."

The other route led through an ornate hallway decorated in gold. Gold floors, gold ceiling, gold pillars. Honestly, it looked sort of tacky to her. The stained-glass windows on the other hand were stunning, simple designs which nonetheless provided necessary depth to the hall. It clearly had more significance than merely traversing point A to point B. She would almost call it pompous, a display of wealth to show off the king's status and power, except anything like that would be wildly out of character for Asgore. "Undyne? What is this place for?"

Undyne did not immediately answer. Several uncomfortable seconds passed with no sound but the echoes of their footsteps. Susan was about to repeat her question when Undyne finally said, "Some call it the Last Hallway. It's the last stop between the castle and the throne room. There's an old custom, where anyone who wants to see the king must walk this hallway alone." Nothing more. Soon the hall ended and the two walked down a balcony overlooking the same city they saw from the antechamber to the outside world. "New Home," Undyne explained with a laugh, maybe an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere. "King Asgore, he's got a lot of good points but he kinda sucks at names. Most of the monsters underground live here. In fact it's starting to get overcrowded… if the barrier hadn't come down I'm not sure what we would have done." They walked a few seconds more before she turned. "Hey, sorry for changing the subject, but are you related to Frisk or something?"

Susan had to blink. "I'm sorry, what? Why would you…?"

"Your eyes. Frisk always keeps their eyes closed, though it doesn't stop them from seeing anything. And your eyes are kinda small, too."

Did she seriously just…? Susan took a few breaths to calm herself down. Undyne had literally lived under a rock her whole life, it would not be fair to get mad at her. There was no baggage, there was no accusation. She did not know. "No, my eyes are like this because I'm Chinese. I'm a first generation immigrant. I… don't know how Frisk can see with their eyes closed. Most humans can't do that. But yeah, me and Frisk aren't related at all."

"Is that so? Huh." Undyne scratched the back of her head, looking up and to the side. "Monsters don't usually look similar unless they're related. I figured your skin tone and theirs was pretty close and your eyes were partly closed, so…"

The culture shock _was_ real. "Compared to monsters humans don't differ that much. Some are taller, some have different skin color, but two humans on opposite sides of the country look more similar to each other than a monster might be to their next door neighbor. It must be difficult for you guys to tell us apart."

"It helps that you dress different." Undyne gave Susan a wide grin to let her know she was at least partly joking. Susan laughed, shaking her head. "Next up on the tour is Asgore's house, at the heart of New Home. I call it his 'house', but I don't think he uses it much. He eats, sleeps, and then off he goes checking on something elsewhere in person or to his garden."

She had not been kidding. The house had the air of a mausoleum rather than something people lived in. The drab walls and floor, the stale scents, the way every loose object was placed just a touch too perfectly to have ended up there by accident. And golden flowers, always golden flowers. Rather than add color they only provided a sense of obsessive madness to the gloom of the rest of the house. The flowers were not just flowers, she decided. They represented something Asgore lost, or perhaps never had. A handwritten note implored Susan to make herself at home; she declined the offer. She took no photos here; even though her path led straight through here it did not seem right to snap pictures of someone else's house without them there.

As they left through the front door they saw a child-sized blob of semi-transparent goo and a large muscular monster with a ram's horns pulling a barricade out from the middle of a stairwell. "Oh cool, they're finally getting around to opening the capital back up. Come on, we can take a shortcut through the city and skip through all of Hotland."

"Wait!" Susan protested. "I don't want to skip anything!"

"I'm going to have to insist," Undyne said, scratching the back of her neck. "Hotland is… it's rough for me. I only had to go through a few hundred feet of it to get from my old house to Alphys' lab, and even that was enough that I needed Alphys to install a water cooler halfway. Tell you what, I'll see if we can find someone in Water… I mean, Snowdin to give you a tour of the place and I'll meet up with you back in the capital on our way out. Sound good?"

Susan nodded hesitantly; they did not want to put Undyne in danger, but it was a shame to come all this way and not see an entire section of the monster's home. "Why was the way to the capital sealed? Was there an accident or something?"

Undyne stopped in midstride, her eyes widening. "Oh, that's probably because… well, because they got word that a human was on their way. They closed off the stairwells to funnel Frisk to Asgore's castle."

"Why?"

Undyne averted her eye. "Fear, I guess. Even though we want to co-exist with humans, there are a lot of monsters who are scared." Susan supposed she understood that; a thousand years of bad blood did not fade right away.

The capital itself, at least, was interesting. At first glance it did not seem too different from a human city. Monsters in business suits, casual clothing, and school uniforms jostled past each other on their way to the daily lives. There were no motor vehicles on the road; everyone walked to their destination. This was likely partly because there as no way to get enough fossil fuel or metals to support such an industry as it was a terrible idea to run a combustion engine with the poor ventilation of the underground. Undyne and Susan passed a few rickshaw-like contraptions, single-passenger vehicles pulled by either strong monsters or a team of smaller ones, either delivering customers to their destinations or waiting for the same. Because of the reduced vehicle traffic roads were a fair bit thinner and more claustrophobic than a human city; even the thin roads of old cities like Boston did not compare. What surprised her, though, was how friendly everyone was. Human cities were full of stone-faced pedestrians trudging along their own way, jostling and elbowing their way through crowds without ever really seeing anyone's face. But monsters waved and smiled to each other, offered greetings and pleasantries, like they were meeting old friends every few steps. They really were friendly to everyone.

Everyone except Susan.

Oh, a few people waved at her or said hello. But she could tell there was a tension present which had not been there before they saw her. Their smiles became nervous and their greetings were forced. She could feel their stares linger on her back. She subconsciously huddled closer to Undyne for protection, knowing as if by instinct not one of the monsters would do anything in Undyne's presence. She did not fully relax until they reached an elevator and practically leapt inside.

"What was that?" Susan asked. "Is that what monsters think of humans? Are they really that scared of us?"

"It's something we need to work on before we start letting monster up topside," Undyne admitted. "Those of us who became good friends with Frisk, we all know not all humans mean us harm. But citizens of the capital especially are wary. It hasn't been all that long since…" She trailed off and covered her mouth. When she pulled it back down she began a new thought, "We'll be at Hotland when the elevator doors open. Follow me as best you can, if you lose sight of me I'm going straight at the four-way intersection. That road goes to the Riverperson's stop, if he's there we can catch a ride to Snowdin."

The doors opened and heat slammed into them like a wall. And it was a wet heat, too, muggy and gross. Susan now understood Undyne's reluctance to stick around, this place was awful! They left the elevator at a brisk walk. Rather than the polished stonework of New Home, Hotland was a series of uncut stone pathways jutting straight out of the… was that lava? There appeared to be no fences or even a rope to keep people away from the edges, and one careless move could send one careening to their death below. And Frisk walked through this by themself? "Undyne," she said with a pant. The fish woman nodded but made no sound to reply. "This can't possibly be safe. You have got to get some barricades up before letting anyone else through here. All it would take is one misstep and not just a human, a monster could die by-"

"Are you in a hurry?" asked a squeaky voice to their right. Susan looked to see an adorable volcano with a happy smiling face regarding her warmly. "I can help you out! Lightning! Speed up!"

Susan felt a tingle over her whole body. Right before her eyes a red heart appeared in the center of her chest. A smiling thundercloud popped out of the top of the volcano creature's head, hurling stylized thunderbolts in all directions. Susan blinked at the absurdity of it. "What in…?"

"NO!" Undyne screamed, getting in between Susan and the volcano. As she did so a white upside-down heart appeared on her own chest and several of the lightning bolts slammed into Undyne's back. Her face screwed up in effort but she took the blasts without even a grunt of protest. "Sorry about this, we gotta get you out of here!"

"What?" Susan asked, trying to look past Undyne. What was the creature doing? "Why? What's going on? AH!"

Undyne did not answer, and instead picked her up under the knees and across the back. This was a bridal carry, Susan realized with equal parts exhilaration and horror. No! Her heart wasn't ready for this! More of the lightning bolts buried themselves into the rocky path with a sizzle. She reached out to catch one in her hand, but when she did it a jolt of pain ran up her arm and she cried out. "Keep your hands in and don't let them touch you!" Undyne warned, too late. "Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you on my honor as Captain of the Royal Guard!" Without another word Undyne broke into a sprint, quickly leaving the volcano creature behind.

Susan clenched and unclenched her fist, trying to work some kind of sensation besides stinging pain into her hand. Belatedly she realized that she was in danger. That volcano, whatever it was, had attacked her. Could it have killed her? That cute thing with the adorable smile on its face? No way. Then again, those were lightning bolts it was throwing and it certainly stung to get hit by one. Was such a cuddly-looking creature really…?

Before she knew it Undyne had put Susan down into a wooden boat. Sweat poured down Undyne's face and she sucked in huge gulps of air. No… that was not sweat. Susan realized with horror that Undyne was _melting_ in front of her eyes. The fish-woman half-sat, half-collapsed into the boat, instructing the hooded boatperson in gasps, "Snowdin. Take… your time." Even as she spoke little blueish flecks of herself dripped onto the boat floor.

"I am never in a hurry," the boatperson replied. "But I am never slow. I go as fast as I like. Tra la la." The Riverperson thrust their paddle into the water and shoved off from the shore. The boat picked up speed in an almost unnatural manner, the tunnels whizzing by as though they were being pushed along by a strong current.

As soon as they were underway Susan sidled closer to Undyne. "Are you okay?" Susan gulped. "You look…"

"I've been better," she admitted. Her grin was as toothy as ever but lacked some of her usual energy. "But I've been a lot worse too. I get like this if I'm… uh, too worked up, is the easy way to put it. As long as I can rest for a bit I'll be okay."

"I'm sorry," Susan began. "Because of me…"

"Don't sweat it." After a second she grimaced. "Damn, that was kinda morbid of me. Sorry. Anyway, it's not your fault. If that Vulkin hadn't shown up…!"

"Vulkin? You mean that… volcano thing?"

"Yeah. They're convinced they've mastered green and orange magic but they're rubbish. So they think they're shooting healing bullets but they're really just regular bullets. Normally it's not that big a deal, but you're a human. Damn it, they could have killed you!"

Susan felt very cold. Toriel had told her last night, magic used on a human was not an effective weapon. Was that a lie? "And you want to bring creatures like that to the surface? To meet with other humans?"

"Of course not!" Undyne shouted, then she doubled over and coughed into her hand. It sounded wet, and when she recovered she closed her fist around something without looking at it. "Of course not. Before any monster gets to the surface we'll put them through a training regimen. Teach them how dangerous their bullets are and why they can't shoot carelessly on the surface. If they can't refrain from shooting bullets as a first response or if they don't understand how dangerous they are, they don't come up. We know even one accidental death could mean the end, so we aren't giving any leeway on this. It might be a real long time before Vulkin reaches the surface."

Susan nodded. She put a hand to her chest and found the red heart had vanished. "When it was attacking me…"

"Yeah, your soul." Undyne straightened a little, but slumped again almost immediately. She rubbed her hand against her mouth and both came away with smear marks. "Your soul appears if you get targeted with magic. If you didn't ask for magic to be used on you and that heart shows up, you need to run."

"Shhhh, okay. I get it. Save your strength."

Undyne nodded. "Oh, and put your coat on. Snowdin is _cold_."

Susan obeyed and donned her pink and baby blue winter coat, not caring how it clashed with the rest of her attire; she could feel the temperature dropping by the minute, the sweat on her forehead beginning to sting. She had no idea how far they had traveled or how fast but it was clear they were getting close to their destination. It was only a few moments longer until the boat stopped at a snowy dock and the Riverperson informed them of their arrival. Susan helped Undyne out of the boat and allowed her to lean on Susan for support. It looked ridiculous; Undyne was head and shoulders taller than Susan, so Undyne had to take halting half-steps to allow Susan to keep pace. The town itself was nice, but they could not stop; she had to get Undyne to a hospital or something. Undyne refused and instead directed her to a house on the outskirts of town. "This is Papyrus' house," she explained. "His brother's still here but he won't bother us. I crashed here after my house burned down the other day. If I can just lie on the couch I'll be fine in a little while."

Susan was doubtful but opened the door without knocking and set her up. She was a little concerned about the door being unlocked but there were bigger issues to deal with. "Anything I can get you? Food, a blanket, pillows?" Undyne pointed to a bundle of blankets under the coffee table and Susan draped them over her, tucking her in.

"Thanks," Undyne smiled. "I'm gonna take a nap. Trust me, I'll be fine, you don't have to watch over me. You can go explore a bit, but stay in town. There are laws against using magic on people in populated areas, so you're safe here but if you leave you might get in trouble someplace I can't find you. Oh, and here." She pulled her hand out of the blankets and dumped some curiously heavy coins into Susan's hand. "Get yourself some food with that. The general store's just down the way, her cinnamon bunnies are the best." With that Undyne closed her eyes. Despite her assurance Susan stayed with her for a little while, watching her chest rise and fall. She did not think of leaving until Undyne stopped dripping and her form regained its solidity. She considered looking for Papyrus' brother, at least to explain the situation, but she figured if he was awake he would have come to check on them with the ruckus they made coming inside. She pulled out a pair of mittens from her coat pocket and put them on her hands before heading out.

Now that she could appreciate the town it was quite nice. She always loved how winter looked: the way untouched snow rolled and swept over the fields, the way icicles crept over the edges of the rooftops and melded together, even the way individual flakes would leave a powdery residue on rough cloth, all of it was beautiful. A place that was snowy all year 'round sounded like something out of an artbook. It was cold, true, but at least it was a pleasant cold, not the kind where the edges of your ears got nibbled off in moments.

As she walked she found something that looked like a general store at the same time her stomach rumbled. Undyne had said something about that, right? A bell rang as she opened the door and a rabbit-like monster behind the counter waved "Howdy!" to her. Susan waved back and examined the store interior. It was a bit crowded with wares of all types, from coats and hats to dry goods to shovels and everything in between. It was not organized terribly well, however, with everything crammed together to make it fit wherever it could. The shopkeeper looked Susan over. "You look a bit like that other stranger that came by the other day. Was that your kid, maybe?"

Susan blinked. Did they mean…? "Are you talking about Frisk? About this high, curly hair, blue-and-lilac striped shirt? Sorry, they aren't mine but I know them. I'm looking for… cinnamon bunnies? Undyne told me about them."

"Is that so? Well lucky you, I've got a fresh batch coming out right now." The shopkeeper opened up the oven and continued talking. "Frisk, you say? Strange… I don't think they told me their name but it sounds familiar. I guess my sister told me about them; she runs the inn next door, and Frisk was an absolute treasure to her." She pulled a tray out of the oven and a blast of cinnamon wafted into Susan's nostrils. The treats on the pan looked like tiny rabbits made of bread, almost too cute to eat. The shopkeeper placed one on a plate and left it on the counter. "You can have one on the house. Any friend of Frisk is a friend of mine; in a small place like this neighbors have to help each other out. But just to warn you, you won't be able to eat just one!" Susan happily accepted it and found it was true; it melted on her way to her stomach the way Toriel's breakfast had, but her belly was perfectly happy anyway. She bought three more with the money Undyne gave her. The shopkeeper put them in a bag to go and asked, "Are you from the capital, too? Or perhaps Waterfall?"

Susan paused. "Waterfall?"

The shopkeeper pointed off to the east. "Of course. You must have passed it on the way here from Hotland?"

Susan felt a coldness in the pit of her stomach, and this time a cinnamon bunny would do nothing to dispel it. "N-no," she stammered, snatching the bag with the remaining bunnies and stuffing it in her coat pockets. "I took the Riverperson's boat. U-um, thank you for these. Sorry, I have to go." She pulled open the door and rushed out into the cold, quickly walking back the way she came.

On her way back Susan mentally ran through the checklist Undyne gave her of the major residential areas of the Kingdom of Monsters. Ruins. Snowdin. Hotland. New Home. Undyne never said anything about a 'Waterfall'. But it was between Snowdin and Hotland? Did Undyne take her on the Riverperson's boat specifically to avoid Waterfall? But why?

'They're hiding something,' Silas had said. 'I don't know what it is yet but it's something bad.' At the time she blew him off, but maybe there was something to it after all? And did that something have to do with Waterfall? What could be there, with such an innocuous name?

Susan stopped in front of Papyrus' house. If she confronted Undyne, could she trust her to tell the truth? Or was this a secret monsters would die to protect? Undyne warned her not to leave town and she probably was not lying when she said it was dangerous, but… what if it was also to keep her from discovering Waterfall and whatever laid there? Undyne had already lied by omission once, why not again? She peered into the distance and saw a path running alongside the river leading into the mouth of a cave. Magic was dangerous to humans. Other monsters might try to use their magic on Susan without realizing it was dangerous, like that Vulkin. But on the other hand, monster food could heal injuries. As long as she was careful and ran away quickly, she should be alright. Susan took one more breath to summon up her courage and walked past Papyrus' house. As she did a fog coalesced around her and she quickly disappeared from view.


	5. Meeting the Governor

WARNING: This chapter contains political speech, bigotry in general, and Islamophobia and transphobia in particular.

* * *

Chad and Marty returned a short time later with a bed and a writing desk for Frisk's new room. Asgore took the items upstairs and began constructing them immediately, while Toriel took stock of the shelves and made up a grocery list. Marty looked it over and raised an eyebrow. "Snails?" he asked.

Toriel nodded happily. "Snail pie is one of my favorites, though not many people share my taste for it. I suppose you could call it a guilty pleasure. I will not force anyone to indulge, but I would like to have some for myself."

Marty called for Silas, "Hey! You've been to fancy shindigs with your dad, right? What's escargot taste like?"

Silas answered without looking up from his tablet where he was researching property laws. "Not bad once you get used to it. It's an acquired taste. Is something funny?" Frisk had burst out laughing at Silas' comment, but restrained themself back to a snicker before shaking their head, refusing to elaborate.

"So you really like to cook, huh?" Marty said to Toriel, grabbing a few jars and containers down from the cupboards. "It's almost lunchtime, so in exchange for the breakfast I'll show you a recipe that'll blow your mind: pizza. It's easy, it's cheap, and best of all if you can take raw ingredients and turn them into pizza all your friends will think you're magic. Uh, figuratively."

Toriel put a finger on her chin and tilted her head. "A beginner recipe? You are not trying to imply something about my cooking, are you?"

"Not at all! It's just, uh, pizza's the only thing I can make. But once you have it mastered you can do all sorts of stuff to put your own spin on it. Using different toppings, swapping out the sauce or cheeses, adding new things into the crust. And even if the experiment doesn't work bad pizza is still pretty good. Hey Papyrus, you get over here too!" Papyrus "Nyeh?"-ed at the sound of his name. "You said something about spaghetti earlier. Well, any fan of Italian cooking is going to need to get real familiar with pizza! Alright, for a group this size we're probably gonna need about four pies, plus one more because the only thing better than fresh pizza is leftover pizza. We're gonna need a bunch of flour, a little sugar, some salt…"

It was at this moment Silas noticed Chad had disappeared. When he pulled out his phone to call Chad he saw a text from him: "tired an ur place is 2 crowded cul8r". Silas frowned at the screen; Chad had always been pretty quiet but the ghosting was a new trick. He sent a reply reminding him not to tell anyone about the monsters, which got him the single letter response "k". He clicked his tongue. He could have used him to get clothes for Frisk; now he would probably have to do it himself.

Silas received a call back from his father's secretary shortly after lunch. She informed him a meeting between the governor and the monsters was scheduled in one hour. She added, unnecessarily, "Also your father wants to see you tomorrow. Can I pencil you in for dinner?" That was probably not good, but it was too late to worry about it now. He would have to leave soon if he wanted to make it to Concord in time. He checked himself in the mirror before leaving; he had already slipped into his suit so he was ready for a high-stakes meeting with an influential politician. His short blond hair was perfectly combed and parted to the side now that he could afford a moment on it. His default expression was that tight-lipped and dour-faced look television lawyers always seemed to wear, the one way he was happy to play into the stereotype. The monsters looked as good as they were going to; he was not even sure how he would get clothing in Asgore's size, or that fit Papyrus' dimensions. He instructed Alphys to keep the windows closed and only answer the door if it was him or his friends.

Asgore and Toriel came with him in the SUV, along with Papyrus to serve as a demilitarized zone between the two Boss Monsters. Oh yes, and he had mentioned being the ambassador so he probably deserved to be at the meeting on his own right. On the way down he gave the monsters a crash course in democratic government and New Hampshire's unique blend of social open-mindedness and rabid distrust of authority. Papyrus drank in the information and deposited it into his notepad; Asgore and Toriel simply listened as Silas drove.

A little over half an hour later they arrived at their destination. The governor's mansion, called Bridges House by the locals, was a fairly modest two-and-a-half-story brick house nestled among birch trees. A plaque at the front noted its history as well as its status as a nationally registered Historic Place. The front door supports were granite, as were the sills to the bay windows to each side. There were no guards posted; usually security was left to state and local police, but frequently governors decided they needed no protection at all. Odd, when meeting with a sentient non-human species one would think the governor would prefer having somebody on duty just in case. There was a woman there to greet them at the front door who introduced herself as Mrs. Kimball, the governor's wife. She blanched on seeing the monsters, stammering that her husband was waiting for them in the study and bravely offering to show the way. The interior of the house had an elegant taste, with patterned rugs decorating hardwood floors. The furniture was upholstered in dark colors and floral patterns, and anything that was not an antique was certainly trying to look like it was one.

Two men were waiting in the study for them. The rotund man with a handlebar mustache was Governor Patrick Kimball. Silas recognized but could not name the other, an older gentleman with a wrinkled face and a navy blue suit. The governor narrowed his eyes at the party before him. "Who are you? I was told I would be meeting with Mr. Pembrooke's son, but you are not Reginald Jr."

Silas took the initiative: "Indeed I am not. I am Mr. Pembrooke's eldest son, Silas. It is good to see you." He received an empty stare in return. Ah, so his father had not seen fit to inform them about his son. Well, forget that. The stakes of this meeting were too high to get bogged down in details. "I know you are a busy man, governor, so I would like to conclude with this business as soon as possible. We are here because the monsters wish to integrate peacefully with the human population of Weymouth. Ah, with your outburst it nearly slipped my mind. This is King Asgore Dreemurr. He will surrender his title upon gaining citizenship, though he hopes he will continue be allowed to have a ceremonial role in monster culture during the transition period." Asgore nodded his head. "This is Toriel, a respected leader in the monster kingdom and a part of the royal family." Toriel bowed at the waist. "And last but not least, the ambassador for monster-human relations, The Great Papyrus."

The governor's gaze went from Toriel to Asgore and back to Silas. A smirk crept into his lips like a spider investigating a tremor in its web. "They look a little like the White Beast, don't they? Or was that before your time? I suppose, as publicity stunts go, this one is rather amusing."

Silas froze. Shit. Now that he thought about it they did look a bit like the descriptions of that urban legend. He had never believed in it and he had been gone for seven years so he had completely forgotten about it. He was not very good at thinking on his feet; in a courtroom that was not as much of a problem as television and movies might lead one to believe. But when facing a politician it was a fatal weakness. He floundered, "W-well… I assure you, they are not a hoax. Or a special effect. Or a costume!" He winced as his voice cracked. Maybe they hadn't heard it properly?

But no. Kimball did not react, but the other man (Senator Weams, Silas remembered at that moment) narrowed his eyes as recognition flashed on his face, and Silas realized with perfect clarity born of panic that _he knew he saw_ _and he does not approve_. He felt cold and exposed, all the clothes and all the mannerisms and all the speech therapy in the world unable to conceal what he had tried so hard to hide. He was drowning, he was dying, he could feel his heartbeat in his ears and his throat constrict.

"Ah, excuse me," Asgore said with a furrowed brow. "What is a 'white beast'?"

The governor's patronizing smile vanished. "Oh. They… they move. And talk."

Silas inhaled, the governor's faltering giving him a chance to recover. "From your reaction I assume you only agreed to this meeting out of morbid curiosity. You seem knowledgeable about the old wives' tales from out in Weymouth, and must have thought I was trying to have a laugh with some local color. Senator Weams, did you…?"

Weams nodded, and said through barely-moving lips, "I'm surpised 'Silas' did not mention it you earlier, King Asgore." His smile gleamed with a nasty edge for just a moment; he did not approve, but could not out Silas in front of the governor without appearing to be a petty little asshole. Which he was, but it never profited for a politician to be recognized as one. "The legend goes that one early morning some massive white animal no one had ever seen before smashed its way into a golden flower preserve while carrying a child's corpse. When confronted the beast breathed fire into the air, scaring the bejeezus out of everyone. The townsfolk defended themselves and the animal bounded off faster than anyone can chase them, directly towards Mt. Ebbot. But of course, nobody ever found any trace of it; no corpse, no blood, and none of the five surrounding counties had any reported missing or dead children. And conveniently nobody on the scene had a working cell phone; I wasn't able to get the cell towers in until the thirties, when Weymouth's growth was too fast to ignore any longer. Anyway, the beast never appeared again so everyone just chalked it up to some kind of mass hallucination, but the people of Weymouth think the beast still lives on that mountain. None of the hikers who have gone looking for it have ever found it, though. Doesn't stop them from spreading this ridiculous rumor that it kills and eats anyone it finds, and that travelers who climb the mountain never return." He scoffed and shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. "Anyway, Governor, they wouldn't be here if they ate people. When's the last time you thought about having a conversation with the chicken right before dinner?"

Toriel and Asgore looked at each other, shock and pain leaving creases on their faces. There was something there, some old story or tragedy on the monsters' side, but this was not the time or place to discuss it. The governor coughed to return attention to its rightful place, i.e. on him. "I apologize for the interruption. I am Governor Patrick Kimball, and this is State Senator Harry Weams. He happened to be visiting today so I thought he might sit in on our meeting."

Silas nodded. "Very well. Let us begin in earnest. Earlier I said Asgore would give up his crown when he became a citizen, but I am afraid that is not quite right. By my reading of the laws he is, all the monsters are, already citizens of these United States."

Both Mr. Weams and Mr. Kimball froze. Kimball looked at the three monsters again, blinking stupidly. "I beg your pardon?"

"If the monsters were to make a claim to birthright citizenship based on the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952 I believe the argument would hold up in court. The operative word in the statute is 'persons', and trying to argue monsters are not people is an argument you would lose. Neither public opinion nor the word of law will stand for declaring clearly sentient beings un-persons. They are already citizens, they need only assert their rights and so it shall be."

"Only if you can prove they were born here," Kimball groused. "How do you know they were born on US soil? They could have-"

"We have extensive records dating back to the time of the sealing one thousand years ago," Asgore countered. "Censuses, birth records, marriages, naming ceremonies… funerals. We have taken great pains to preserve them, under the rationale that it might be all that was left of us by the time humanity found us again. I believe your historians will find them quite comprehensive."

Silas did not want to give Governor Kimball the chance to catch his breath. "And of course the mountain and everything underneath it is solely their property."

Governor Kimball threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "God damn it, are you going to whip out some other obscure law to-"

Silas curled his fingers to line up his fingernails, checking the undersides for dirt. "Hardly obscure. Mt. Ebbot is owned by the government but there is no current or planned usage for it. That means it's public domain and subject to the General Mining Act of 1872. We and they believe there are valuable metal deposits inside the mountain and will submit a claim for mining rights. This of course would need to be dated retroactively, as they had no choice but to mine the caverns to carve out living space and could not submit the necessary paperwork due to the barrier. Failing that, they could also assert squatter's rights."

"Squatter's…! There's no way they could-"

"They could, actually. To claim squatter's rights the possession of the land must be actual, open, notorious, exclusive, hostile, and continuous for a period of no less than twelve years." He counted each of the conditions off on his fingers. "It is a well-known legend in the area that monsters live on Mt. Ebott, which satisfies actual, open, and notorious. Their occupation dates back to at least the 'white beast' story Mr. Weams has so helpfully reminded us of." Weams paled a little at this. "That covers the continuous twelve-year minimum. Trespassers are known to never be seen again and nobody else lives on or in the immediate vicinity of the mountain, this satisfies exclusive and hostile. Thus, the land is theirs by right." He looked over to Toriel with a practiced look. As they had rehearsed she nodded and Silas softened his tone. "But monsters aren't like you and me, governor. They don't want a nasty legal fight to strongarm their way into our country. They want an open and honest discussion, a harmonious melding of our societies. Simply grant to them what is already theirs and there does not have to be any animosity between us." He hoped the quick turn to an alternative would keep the governor from noticing how flimsy the logic was; could an oddball story about a cryptid really constitute "open possession"? He would not want to argue that in front of a judge.

Governor Patrick drummed his fingers on the desk. "This office may enforce property rights but I can't sign the deeds over to you with the stroke of a pen and you know it. How many… monsters, are we talking about here, anyway?" Excellent, he took the bait. Despite the governor's obvious and growing displeasure, things were on the right track.

"Something on the order of fifteen thousand."

Kimball's response was hardly better than Silas' when he first heard. "Fifteen-! Good god, how are we expected to deal with an influx of fifteen thousand all concentrated on a single city!" What he meant was, 'How are we supposed to dislodge fifteen-kay people from inside a mountain?' The answer was clear: 'You don't.'

"There's no reason to assume they would all be confined permanently to Weymouth. They could be absorbed by some of the surrounding communities, or even out of the state."

"And-!" His gaze went to Asgore and he swallowed. No doubt he was about to make some kind of protest about 'letting these things loose' but caught his tongue in time. "Even so, there are practical matters to consider."

"We understand it will take time to process these new citizens. Registration, new social security numbers, allocating the staff and budget requirements for the same."

Asgore spoke next: "We can be patient, to a degree. But monster citizenship will happen, Governor. We do not wish to assert ourselves, but we will do so if the alternative is to permanently stay in ghettos and accept non-citizen status."

Toriel added, "Or being forced to remain underground. We have waited a very long time to be free, and we will not accept being stopped now."

The governor got a faraway look in his eyes. "The thought has occurred to me," he started. "If we take in this many… 'domestic refugees', for lack of a better term, all at once, it would be monumental strain on our infrastructure. Those Middle Eastern refugees the president wants our state to take in… we can't accommodate them and the monsters at once. And if the monsters have nowhere else…" He eyed Weams, who nodded while cupping his chin.

It was disgusting to point that out, but Governor Patrick Kimball was in many ways a disgusting man. It started from a sound argument; there are limited resources, limited funds and space and manpower, and everyone wanted a piece of it. Hard choices needed to be made, and some people would have to go without. It seemed so simple, so logical, so unassailable. But there would always be some other group to prioritize over the others: we can't afford to help women, there are too many poor people who need help; we can't afford to help poor people, there are too many veterans who need help; we can't afford to help veterans, there are too many children who need help; and on, and on. Silas knew a man who could sacrifice one group of people to save another would eventually make the decision to save no one at all. But still he accepted this from the governor, because he knew it would earn him the governor's assistance in the short term. Currently not just New Hampshire but every state was under enormous pressure from the federal government to house incoming refugees from the Middle East, especially from war torn regions where Islam was the dominant religion. Patrick Kimball did not know the monsters, so his default position was optimistic distrust; he feared and hated Muslims, and given the opportunity to turn them away he would take it even if it meant offering aid to the monsters.

Silas shut his eyes and took in a breath. "You may have a point there, governor." In the end Silas would hate himself for it, but it would get him the results he needed from people he disliked and who personally despised him. Indeed, even as Silas thought this Governor Kimball began stroking his chin. He was looking at monsters in a new light now, not as an imposition but as a gift which allowed him to weasel out of an obligation without suffering politically for it. Silas almost wished that had not worked as well as it had.

Kimball nodded. "I see, I see. I think we can work with that. As for the surrounding lands, that is certainly something we can discuss at a later time through the proper channels. Some of it, however, is not publicly owned. Beatrice Lincoln owns most of it, so you'll have to discuss it with her either in person or in court." Silas winced. This put a sympathetic smile on the governor's face. "Ah, I see her reputation has reached your ears. Suffice to say I wish you the best of luck. How long are you giving us before announcing the existence of monsters publicly?"

Silas snapped his fingers, as if just remembering some minor detail. "Oh, there is one other thing. Frisk Holder has been found. You should announce that and tell everyone they will be delivered to a new foster family; as they are a minor no other information will be given and no interviews with them will be allowed until they are settled. Then you are going to release them into my custody. I expect to receive any records you may have on them, and any possessions their previous foster parents held for them should be delivered to my address."

"You?!" the governor chuckled. "I highly doubt-"

"I am perfectly eligible to serve as a foster parent. I am over 25 years of age, with a regular source of income that allows for flexibility in my schedule and a clean criminal background. I have an available bedroom in my condominium they would not need to share with any adults. There are a few other state-level requirements, including a Home Safety Check I have scheduled in about three hours, but do you think I would come without all my t's crossed and i's dotted? Despite what you may have heard from the Texas bar I am somewhat competent."

Patrick tapped a finger against his desk. "But the one actually taking care of the child will be…?" His eyes slid over to Toriel.

Silas said, "I am not required to answer that leading question and I do not see why it is your concern. Anything that happens to the child would be my sole responsibility. What guests I have in my home, how often, and what they do there are of no consequence so long as no direct or indirect harm comes to Frisk Holder. I will of course consent to the regular inspections and interviews to ensure the child is well-cared for. I… was hoping you would use your authority to fast-track the licensing I require."

Something in the governor's eyes sparkled and his lips curled upwards. "Oho, I see how it is now. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, is that it? Very well, I like a man who knows how the game is played. I will make a few calls and clear away the red tape for you. You doubtlessly have a lot of work with this… monster business, so I'm happy to take some of that off your plate and do a favor for Reginald Pembrooke's son. In return give us… hm, three or four months on the citizenship issue. It will be a lot easier to take care of once this year's budget numbers are in, and until then… well, that's going to depend on what you can wrangle out of Ms. Lincoln. But as long as they stick to Weymouth for the time being I don't think there will be any major problems with housing, opening businesses, or finding work. You would have to speak with your mayor for the specifics, but she's an open-minded person. Real bleeding-heart type. Not like us, right?" He extended his hand for a shake and Silas returned it, pumping once. "I had my doubts about you, but you're not bad."

Silas forced a smile to his face. "Glad to see I meet your approval. We'll have a press conference in Weymouth next week, preferably early. The legislature doesn't meet until Wednesday and I'd like to take some pity on them and give them time to process this before then. But we also only have one chance to make a good first impression, so…" He shrugged. The governor nodded and waved him off. Just like that, the meeting was over.

On their way back to the truck Toriel whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "I do not see why that was necessary. It seems to me we just traded four months in legal limbo for a slip of paper."

"Not at all. The process for becoming a licensed foster parent could take weeks in the best case scenario. In normal circumstances if I were not a legal foster parent right now I would not be able to keep Frisk Holder. In fact, most foster parents do not have much choice which youths are assigned to them. A good compromise might leave both parties unsatisfied, but an adequate compromise leaves both parties with something they want. We gave the governor time to bluster and pontificate, time you can use to ingratiate yourself to the local community. Give them time to get used to you in a way that makes it clear you are here to stay without trampling all over their peace of mind. In return, the governor sold Frisk up the river. He does not want nor care about the child, so he was happy to give them to us. So you see, each of us gave up something we could very much afford to lose and the other desperately needed."

Toriel frowned deeply. "I would not use the words 'sold up the river'. We care for Frisk and would never harm them."

"I know that. He didn't. As far as he knows he just acquiesced to a child getting abused, manhandled, and mistreated by creatures he doesn't even consider human, and it will not cost him a single wink of sleep tonight. That is the kind of man the governor is no matter how he acts. He isn't very bright but he is ruthless and dangerous. Do not ever, ever forget that." He exhaled. "Still, we've cleared the first hurdle. That's not nothing. The next step will be the press conference. There's a lot of ground to cover and we're only going to get one chance. First, you need to explain who you are and what you want. Second, some things about magic. The rest of the world needs to see the benefits to having monsters around. Third… you're going to need to talk about the barrier. When it was made, how it worked, and how it was destroyed. The story as it exists is too convenient, they're going to want to know why you've chosen now to come out." He was fishing with that last comment, and the wide-eyed look on her face told him what he needed to know. The secret the monsters were hiding, the terrible crime they committed, was related to the destruction of the barrier. "Don't say anything. We'll discuss it when we're alone." He faced forward with a snap of his head, suddenly very eager to get back home.

* * *

Frisk laid on their bed, trying to make it feel comfortable. A new mattress was always a bit stiff before it's been broken in a little, and it was especially uncomfortable when staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. No matter how many times Frisk experienced this they never got used to it. The room was empty; there were no stuffed animals, no toys, no posters, only the bed, a dresser, and a writing desk tucked away in a corner. It would have been better if they could have gotten some of their things from the previous family they stayed with, but it seemed that was going to have to wait. They could not reclaim any of their things until the system knew they had been found, and that would not happen until Silas…

Their heart fluttered a bit when they thought about him. "Hey Chara." The ghost made a "hm?" sound to let them know they'd been heard. Chara floated above them parallel to the bed, as though they were sleeping on an upper bunk. Their back was toward Frisk, legs crossed and hands behind their head with their fingers intertwined. Unlike Frisk's voice theirs did not produce the echo found in all unfurnished rooms. "You heard what they were talking about, right? Downstairs?"

Chara nodded. "Silas said he was going to become your foster parent, but it would probably be Toriel raising you. Then when monsters get their place in the human world she'll adopt you officially. You'll be Frisk Dreemurr soon, probably sometime in the next year. You won't be a 'placeholder' any more."

Frisk clutched their pillow, also a touch too stiff to be comfortable. "Wanted to say 'm sorry," they said. "You were s'posed to be their family. I want to live with them but I never meant to take your spot."

The ghost shrugged. "You didn't replace me. I was never their family. I wouldn't let it happen then and it'll never happen now."

"But what if-"

"Stop. I just want to fix what I can. What happens to me after that doesn't really matter."

Frisk let their objection die in their throat. They knew what Chara thought, they knew perfectly well they could not change their mind. This did nothing to ease their anxiety or placate the dread in their heart. If there was no place for Chara to return to, what were they going to do when they finally succeeded in bringing Asriel back? Instead they asked, "What do you think about him? Silas?"

Chara was silent for a moment while Frisk's anxiety built. It was impossible to tell Chara's expression from the back of their head. "I don't hate him," they said finally. "But it's hard for me to trust him. I don't know what his motives are or what it would take for him to stab monsters in the back. I don't think he cares about monsters one way or the other, not really. Who professes to do so much for people they met so recently? No, I really think he has some ulterior motive. I just wish I knew what it was."

Frisk's stomach twisted itself like a pretzel as Chara listed their doubts. "I don't think he's a bad person. He's strong, in his head I mean. And even though he talks stern and mean he's really nice, I can tell. And he wanted me. He asked for me. No one's ever done that before. I just feel… I don't know how to say it."

"Frisk," Chara repeated their name with a chill in their voice. "I doubt you have forgotten this, but the connection between our souls still exists. I can sort of tell what you're feeling in a general sense. Happiness, sadness, anger, things like that. I was trying to end this conversation for your sake, but if you raise the piñata I'm going to take a swing at it. All of which is to say…" Chara spun in the air so they now looked down at Frisk, grinning from ear to ear and with a malicious gleam in their eye. "You li-ike him!"

Ack! Frisk covered their face with their hands and started giggling. "No I don't! Well… maybe… I don't know, I just…"

"Oh don't get like that," Chara said with a snicker. "I have to admit, for a human he's not a bad catch. Wise, sophisticated, kind, and he clearly likes you back at least a little, even if it's not in the same way." They floated down to Frisk's bedside with a put-upon sigh. "Little Frisky has a crush. They grow up so fast…!"

Frisk buried their face in the pillow and shook their head. "But he's so much older… he's prob'ly just being nice 'cause he feels sorry for me…"

"If I were you I'd be more worried he's going to be your foster dad within the next couple days. Prooooobably going to be tough to get a date out of him when he sees you as a kid."

Frisk sighed. "Do you enjoy making fun of me that much?"

Chara's smile softened. "Not really. I'm sorry, I'll stop. I thought that's what a friend is supposed to do, tease you about your crush. I didn't mean for it to hurt."

"It didn't," Frisk said. And it was true, mostly; Chara stopped when Frisk started getting annoyed, at least partly because they could tell Frisk was starting to get annoyed. "But if you wanna make it up to me… did you ever have a crush on anyone?"

"No!" The single word was shot out without thought, tinged with desperation and panic. It was the worst reaction they could have made.

Frisk shot up from the bed wearing Chara's smile from a moment ago. "Oh? What was that, about how friends are s'posed to tease each other?"

Chara shook their head, not liking where this was heading at all. "It's stupid." Chara averted their gaze, a clear sign of weakness. "I-it was a quick thing, I got over it years ago."

Frisk crept closer on their hands and knees. "So who was it?"

"Nobody you know!" Chara was desperately trying to avoid Frisk's inquisitive stare, tilting their head this way and that as Frisk tried to look them in the eye.

"Pleeeeeaaaaase? I swear I won't tell anyone."

"But it's so embarrassing!"

"C'mon! You teased me about liking an older man, you can't hold out on me!"

Chara licked their lips, blushing furiously. "You can't tell anyone, okay? I mean it!"

"Of course I won't. I mean, who would I tell?" Chara leaned close and cupped their hand around Frisk's ear, whispering something to them. Frisk recoiled, a giant grin on their face. "AARON?!"

Chara squealed, "Not so loud!"

"Seahorse, lunkhead creep, 'Check all you like!', _that_ Aaron?!"

"ShutupshutupshutupIhateyou!" Now Chara was the one covering their face with their hands and shaking their head furiously.

"It's just… a suprise! I mean, what did you see in him?"

Chara opened their finders and peeked between them bashfully. "… I thought his muscles looked neat. But I lost interest the moment he opened his mouth! I don't like people with personalities like that. I don't! Don't look at me that way!"

"I didn't egspect you to be the kind of person to like someone for their looks." After another few seconds of awkward staring Frisk shrugged their shoulders. "Well, we'll say you were young and didn't know better."

"Gee, thanks."

Chara turned their head to the side as a series of soft thumps sounded up the stairs. Alphys poked her head in and looked around the room. "So this is going to be your room. Um, this is, uh, pretty spartan. I could… lend you some decorations if you wanted. Just to spruce the place up a little."

Frisk shook their head. "Thanks. If I stay here I'll add stuff myself."

"Oh! Okay, that's… good. Um, I was just wondering… if you wanted to watch some anime with me? I found this site that lets you watch all you want, all the time! And it's even in the original Japanese voices with English subtitles!"

Chara whispered in their ear what subtitles were; Frisk wanted to cringe but controlled themself. "Sure, okay! But, um, can it have English voices? The subs are hard to follow."

Alphys pursed her lips. She inhaled. She exhaled. "I… suppose. If it means that much to you. I'll go get it set up, it should be ready by the time you get down here." She then retreated down the stairs, muttering something about voice acting quality and script rewrites.

"You're going to have to tell them you can't read eventually," Chara poked at Frisk. "I realize it's tough but they need to know. The monsters and Silas have come this far for you already, they're not going to ditch you because of it."

"Maybe," Frisk said as they dangled their legs over the side of the bed and dropped down on their feet. "But not right now." If they were going to tell anyone, it would be Toriel or maybe Silas. They had nothing against Alphys, but it was not something she had to be the first to know. On their way out of the room they asked, "Oh, right. I meant to ask earlier, but… what made you take your name, 'Chara'? The star is pretty, but I don't know what drew you to it when you could barely see it."

"I don't want to talk about that."

Frisk stopped with their hand on the doorknob. It had been a while since they heard that phrase. Chara said it all the time when they first met, but as their journey through the Kingdom of Monsters continued Chara had become more and more receptive to Frisk's curiosity. Being denied now felt almost like getting slapped. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"It's fine," Chara stepped on their words. "You had no way of knowing it was a sensitive topic. Even if I were inclined to answer it's a fairly long story and Alphys is waiting for you." Frisk nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind them.

Alphys had dragged one of the dining room chairs over to the computer so they could both sit and watch. Frisk took their seat nodded to let Alphys know they were ready. The screen was mostly clear, only a single web browser window open. That was when Frisk noticed a row of twenty or more tabs along the top of the window… Alphys had so many open the titles as well as the icons had been squeezed out of existence. "Alright, here we go! I already loaded up the show… let's see, which one of these tabs was it…?" She clicked one open and was met with a solid block of text indecipherable to Frisk. Alphys' eyes widened and she made a choking sound before she lunged with the pointer and opened a different tab. "Oh no! I-I, uh… that was nothing, just a little something Toriel asked me to look into! Nothing to worry about! Ah, here it is!" She clicked on a different browser tab and this time it brought up a video file. She set it to fullscreen and leaned back, clicking her index claws together.

Chara must have picked up on Frisk's curiosity, because they floated down next to them while keeping their eyes on the screen. "Don't react," Chara warned. They licked their lips before informing them, "It was a list of search engine results for the phrase, 'missing person Chara'." Frisk only barely managed to avoid doing a double-take in Chara's direction. Alphys was looking for information on Chara before they fell? And on Toriel's orders?

But this method would fail. The child never went by the name 'Chara' on the surface, so Alphys would run into a dead end. Frisk knew the name she ought to have been looking for. Their birth name, their deadname. But… "You don't even consider telling her." The narration was half warning and half plea.

Frisk's hands clenched around their knees. They understood Chara wanting to keep their former life private. Frisk was not exactly itching to tell Toriel their sordid history in public school and the foster care system. But they were looking. They _cared_. Even after more than 30 years Toriel still loved and thought of Chara. Didn't that matter? Didn't she deserve at least to know about the awful things Chara endured which led them to climb that mountain…?

Bubbly J-pop erupted from the speakers, prompting Alphys to turn down the volume quickly, but the burst of sound snapped Frisk from their thoughts. They tried to focus on the cartoon as best they could. Later. They could talk to Chara about it later.


	6. Waters Fall

_It's only been a day and I'm already discouraged._

 _The Undernet was based on the same data architecture and GUI design as the surface internet so using it was a snap. Unfortunately that's where my good luck ended. Census data isn't available for public reading for 72 years after it's taken. Searching for their name hasn't gotten me anywhere. Even looking for children who disappeared around that time got me nothing. I'm starting to think 'Chara' may have been a fake name, but even so you would figure there would be something in the news if a child vanished. I can't imagine that going completely unmentioned anywhere. But there's no record of a child going missing without being found 31 years ago anywhere in the tri-state area. It's like they sprang into being in the Underground fully formed with memories of a surface they had never actually seen. Which is impossible, so I'm left wondering what's actually going on here._

 _I do have some good news. Info on the other six was much easier to find. Even though humans have a ton of newspapers and news organizations a lot of the big sites are just reprints of each others' stories. That means most of my work has been sifting through dozens of stories that have maybe a couple words worth of difference from each other. I automated the process with a few spiders of my own design, the results of which are on the following pages. I've included the full articles for you to read through if you want, but you might not have the time right away? So I'll give you the teal deer and you can check my work if you have the time. There was also some documentary on them released a couple years ago, but to be honest I didn't watch it. I can read faster than people can speak, so it takes less time to just read it… you know? Still, I can show it to you if you want, just say the word._

 _Anyway, we'll go in the order they appeared starting with the cyan soul, Lilly. There's a lot of speculation about the details since so much happened behind closed doors but here's what I know for sure: She went missing 25 years ago, putting her arrival about four years after Chara's death. Her family was from "Connecticut", which… well, the simple way to explain it is that they're a separate kingdom allied to the "New Hampshire" we're in now. Ask Silas to tell you about how a democratic republic works sometime. Anyway, they were visiting her mother's sister, a Ms. Beatrice Lincoln, who still lives in the area today. While they were there Lilly vanished into thin air. Her parents reported her missing immediately, believing she had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. But no ransom note ever materialized and no demands were ever made by the "kidnappers". Which, uh, ought not to be surprising, considering we had no way of contacting them. And you didn't kidnap her, obviously! But here's where the story gets weird. About a week after Lilly went missing her father… he took his own life. He didn't leave a note or any explanation, and his widow never offered one. She did, however, sign away her parental rights and even submitted a press release saying if Lilly was ever found she should be returned to Ms. Lincoln. There was a huge uproar; friends of the family said he wasn't the type of person to kill himself and her mother loved Lilly and would want to take care of her. There were even accusations that Beatrice had the father killed and forced the mother to sign away her daughter. But the family refused any further contact with the media. Despite all the unanswered questions there was never any resolution. So there are a whole bunch of conspiracy theories about Lilly's disappearance, of which "she fell into Mt. Ebott" is only one._

 _While I'm on the subject, are you sure about visiting the surviving families? Some of the kids don't have families anymore, some of them never did, and if half the stories I've found about Ms. Lincoln are true… well, I'm sure you and Asgore can take care of yourselves but it still makes me worry…_

* * *

Susan had barely gotten a hundred feet inside the cave when she began regretting everything. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, the red heart on her chest blazing like a beacon to ensure her pursuer would not lose sight of her. Heavy footfalls dogged her steps, and she could still hear the chanting of, "Green means clean, green means clean!" behind her.

"I'll take a shower later!" She ducked out of the way of a giant droplet of water which flew past at high speed. "Leave me alooooooone!"

She took a running leap over a portion of the river but fell short, landing on a flower in the middle of the stream. She was so surprised when it held her weight that she nearly slammed her shin into the opposite shore. She stumbled a bit but kept up her pace, terrified her misstep had evaporated any lead she might have had. She needn't have worried; she heard rather than saw her pursuer stumble and roll with a cry of pain. The tingling in her skin vanished along with the red heart in the center of her chest. She skidded to a halt and dared to look behind her. The turtle-like creature was laying on its side, the glass dome on its back sporting a new crack. It groaned and winced as it tried and failed to stand up again. Before she could berate herself for how stupid she was being Susan hurried over to the fallen form and dug one of her precious Cinnamon Bunnies from her pocket. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"N-n-no," the creature sniffled. "My leg's hurt. And I slipped in the mud and got… I… I'm… dirty! _Dirty!_ " Its voice became shrill and it vibrated as though trying to shake itself to pieces.

"Hey, it's okay! I was told this food can heal injuries, so do you think that'll be good for your leg?" She held up the Bunny to the creature's mouth; after a brief moment of hesitation it devoured the treat in a single chomp. "For the dirt… um, gimme a second." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Seeing what she was doing the creature shakily got to its legs, turning red from embarrassment from being seen while so filthy. There was little she could do with it, but she at least cleared the large splatters of mud off and left only thin streaks of grime behind. The handkerchief was a lost cause, though. She hoped there was a trash can nearby.

The creature looked her up and down and the bird inside the glass dome chirped. "I am Woshua. I just want everything to be clean; I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"So you aren't going to insist on cleaning me after all that, are you?"

"I can't now," Woshua grumbled. "Haven't you heard the saying? 'Remove the splash from your own clothes before removing the spot from mine'? I musn't clean you while I'm so dirty!" They (it didn't feel right for Susan to continue thinking of them as an "it" now that she knew their name) nodded resolutely, as though offended Susan would think they were so lacking in common sense.

Susan was pretty sure that was not how the saying went but decided not to correct them. "Oh, silly me! Of course you can't!"

"If you need a breather, take that flower bridge over there and rest on the bench in the next room. I just cleaned it up so you won't get any dirtier."

"Really? Thanks! Um… listen, can you do me a really big favor? If you see anyone else, tell them about me and warn them _not_ to throw any of those bullet things at me."

"Well… I guess so. I'll be happy to spread the word! Now if you'll excuse me, I must get home and finish cleaning myself before anyone else sees me… it would be a scandal if I were caught looking so… so _dirty_." Susan let them go with a nod. While they were going slow and favoring one of their legs, they walked with a confidence that convinced Susan they would be okay. She turned away and investigated the bridge of flowers, eager to find that bench.

It did not take long. The flower bridge led to a small room with a park bench in the direct center facing the river. She did not even think to question it, flopping down with a sigh. She had barely gotten anywhere and she was already beat. Maybe coming here was a mistake… but it was her mistake. She was not going to back down now, Undyne avoided telling her about Waterfall for a reason and she was going to find out why.

She lazily took in the rest of the room. The sparkling stones on the ceiling were like tiny stars looking down from above. The flowing of the river provided a peaceful ambiance. Next to the bench a tall blue flower grew, a style and shape Susan had never seen. "I think I'm stupid because I _am_ stupid," the flower said to her. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore."

Susan did a double-take. For one thing, talking flower! That was incredibly cool, but she kept her wonder and amazement in check for the moment. She had only heard it a few times so she could not be sure, but that flower sounded a lot like… "Frisk?"

The flower said back in her own voice, "Frisk?"

She shouted into the flower in a panic, "Wait! No! Say the other thing again!"

"Wait! No! Say the other thing again!"

Well, darnit. The stupid flower must repeat everything it hears like a mischievous toddler. She leaned back on the bench and sighed. She was fairly sure that had been Frisk's voice, and it sounded like they were arguing with someone. But who had they met? This was such an out of the way place that their voice was still here days later, so it was hard to believe they met anyone here by accident. Maybe they were traveling with someone? And the tone of their voice was very different from how she remembered it. Frisk spoke little, and when they did it was slow and halting. They seemed sort of timid, to be honest. The Frisk from the flower was forceful, even belligerent. As for what they said… she frowned. The news reports had mentioned Frisk had never done well in school. Could they have internalized their academic failings as part of their character? At age eight? That would be something to follow up with them on. If she ever got out of here.

She looked over at the flower again. "Not much for conversation, are you?"

It replied in a snotty tone, "Not much for conversation, are you?"

She had to laugh at that.

* * *

A noise knocked Sans out of a fitful sleep. There was some commotion downstairs, but he did not think anything of it once he heard Undyne's voice. He did not really like dealing with her; she was a bit too bombastic for him and never appreciated his style of humor. Wait a moment, didn't Undyne go up to the surface? Eh, whatever, it was quiet now. Couldn't have been that big of a deal. He nodded off again.

 _Why did the humans attack? Indeed, it seemed they had nothing to fear._

When he woke again it was quiet. Undyne must be taking a nap. And after all the crap she gave him about his mandatory breaks. Well, what the hey. He might as well drop in downstairs and see what all the fuss was about. He tiptoed from his bed to the door, taking care not to step on any of the papers littering the floor. He would pick them up later. Ha ha, no he wouldn't. As soon as he opened the door he could hear Undyne snoring. That woman could wake the dead. He took the stairs one at a time, his bones still a bit stiff from his extended depressive episode.

 _Humans are unbelievably strong. It would take the soul of nearly every monster just to equal the power of one human soul._

A couple globs of a bluish-green slime had splattered on the floor. He recognized them instantly; that was not good at all. In a half panic he checked Undyne's stats. Most of them were gibberish just like everyone else's; a long line of 1's and 0's with no descriptions, explanations, or context. He had accepted defeat on ever making sense of them, with a few notable exceptions. She currently had 647/1500 HP and steadily rising; something must have knocked her down pretty hard, but she was on the road to recovery and her body was looking solid now. Her LV was at 3, the same as it was before everyone else left for the surface. It meant she had not been forced to kill a human yet, which was a positive. Or she had been forced to retreat without managing to kill anyone. "heya," he greeted, causing her to stop snoring and open one annoyed eye. "get bored of the surface already?"

"Shut it," she grumbled. "I had to run through Hotland carrying a load, and you know how much I hate that place. Plus Vulkin wasn't kidding around; I had to take a couple hits for Susan while I hauled her out of there. Uh, Susan's one of our new human friends. Don't worry, she's cool."

Sans would be the judge of that. Or would he? When the king disbanded the Royal Guard did that mean he got fired too? He probably should have asked before everyone else left. Oh well. "one person shouldn't have been too much trouble for you to carry. you could probably bench press five elementary schoolers."

"Betcha I could do seven! But I swear Susan must have eaten bricks on the way over here or somethin'." Undyne reached for the coffee table, grasping for something without looking. "What time is it anyway?"

"been about forty minutes since you got here. you brought a human down? where are they?"

"Probably running around Snowdin still," she waved a hand dismissively. "Maybe she stopped by the librarby or something. Hey, could you find out what she's been up to? I'm not worried or nuthin', just figured she could use a tour of the place."

"and you thought of me to give it? eh, have to go to war with the army you've got i guess. i'm gonna mark it as time on the clock if that's okay. want me to start a pot of coffee before i go? i know how bad those c3 attacks get."

Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "That'd help a lot, thanks."

Sans was about to pour out the last dregs and rinse the pot when he was reminded the sink was about three times his height. This left him with only poor options; he could not affect himself with gravity magic, and his control was not nearly good enough to use it to guide the pot from the floor. He craned his neck to make sure Undyne could not see him, then edited the sink to be normal height. Dump, rinse, and return the sink to normal, all in seconds. He checked again; he was not staring into Undyne's incredulous expression so she must not have noticed what he did. He set the coffee maker to pour hot water into the pot, and tossed a couple spoonfuls of instant coffee into the pot. Changing the filter and grinding the beans would be way too much work; helping out a fellow sufferer was all well and good but he had a reputation to uphold. His task complete, he walked out the door.

 _But humans have a weakness. Ironically, it is the strength of their souls. Its power allowed it to persist outside the human body, even after death._

There were two ways of looking for somebody in Snowdin. First, there was the thorough way. He could wander around the town, looking for someone who did not belong. Even if he did not know them well Sans knew just about everyone in Snowdin; there was not much tourism even before the barrier broke, and now few people would want to move away from the site of the old barrier now that it had been broken. Snowdin was not terrible large so it would not take long. Then there was the other way.

"Hi Sans!"

"(Hello Sans!)"

"Hiya Sansy~!"

"hey," Sans greeted as he sidled up to his usual place at the bar. However, he did not sit down. "sorry i haven't been around, i had some things to check on. oh, have you heard? my younger bro is going to be the ambassador to the humans. cool, huh?"

Grillby nodded his head and signed, _You must be proud of him._ The flickering of his flames could make his hand signs difficult to read, but he was considerate and make them slowly to compensate. He then held up a bottle of ketchup, to which Sans waved his hand. Grillby replaced the bottle under the counter without another word.

"i am, grillbz. it's the job he was born for. and hey, anything that keeps him out of science is okay by me. but what's up with you all? anything interesting happen since that whole bright light knocked everyone out?"

 _You mean since the barrier broke?_ Grillby paused. _We keep on, as we always have. My daughter Fuku is eager to go to school on the surface. Perhaps we could live together again. Oh, and one of Frisk's acquaintances stopped by the general store. They did not come here, but Esme saw them heading toward Waterfall._

"oh yeah? by themself?" Grillby nodded and Sans rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He really did not want to have to search through the whole place for the human. Besides, Waterfall was Undyne's beat. She could give an effective tour of that place much better than he could. Perfect, he could throw her own assignment back to her. He loved it when everything worked out like that. "thanks. i'll be right back, just have to let the boss know where her charge ran to." He waved over his shoulder as he left Grillby's to a chorus of "Bye!"s and "See you later!"s.

When Sans came back Undyne was exactly as he had left her. She opened one eye to stare at him with an expectant look. She had regained a couple hundred HP, so she should be fine to move now. Might as well lay it out then. "just wanted to let you know susan the human went off to waterfall."

Undyne shot up from the couch. "She did what?!"

 _If a monster defeats a human, they can take its soul. A monster with a human soul… A horrible beast with unfathomable power._

"woah, that got a reaction out of you. is it a problem?"

"Of course it's a problem!" Undyne paced around the room, filled with nervous energy. "Have you forgotten that it's like a museum? The plaques have the history of the human-monster conflict, and if she reads those she's going to know how we broke the barrier!"

He scoffed. "you mean you didn't tell her from the start? clearly that was a bad strategy."

Undyne ignored his snark and ran into the kitchen. "Not to mention if another monster attacks them… Sans, do you have any idea how completely doomed we are if the first human we bring here, and a friend of the only human allies we have on the surface, ends up dead?" She took the pot of coffee and drank directly from the pot, making a face. "Ugh, why is your coffee so bad? And your brother makes such a great cup." She tore open the top of a cereal box and grabbed handfuls, stuffing them into her mouth. "Ahywheh, we hoffa fin' her!"

"hm, i see your point." If anything happened to the human Undyne brought down, would that be bad enough to cause Frisk to reset? Could be. Damn it, did he just sleep through the event that would undo everything? If that was the case he could not afford not to care anymore. So, while her back was turned… "alright, i'll go on ahead."

He reached into his own file and changed his location to "room_water_trashzone_1". His surroundings blinked away; he was no longer standing on a hardwood floor but on a patch of golden flowers floating in the middle of an awful-smelling stream. Instead of walls mountains of garbage loomed on either side of him, and just to his right water tumbled into the void below. He glanced around but did not see anything out of place. Maybe he should have gotten a description of the human from Undyne? Nah, it would be fine. Even if most monsters literally couldn't identify a human on sight, he had an ace up his sleeve. Most people only had one set of stats. He had only met three people who had two sets of stats: one of them was that flower that appeared at the end, while the other two had been humans. He theorized it had something to do with the power of the anomaly; one set of stats dictated how the world would react to them, the other was their own personal set of stats based on their experiences in other timelines. In other words, having the power to rewind time caused there to be such a disconnect between them and everyone else that it affected their file. He wondered if he would have seen a second statline on Chara if he'd had this ability back when they were alive, then set that thought aside. The point was, if he saw two sets of stats he would know he was looking at a being with enough determination to at least keep their memories through a timeline event. Statistically speaking they were likely to be a human.

 _The humans, afraid of our power, declared war on us. They attacked suddenly and without mercy._

He changed his location to "room_water12". Nope, no dead bodies here either. He figured if the human had died on the environment it would be in one of these places where the water was deepest, so in a way it was encouraging that he came up empty. He edited his location one more time, to "room_water_onionsan" and whistled once he settled into his new place. The top of a head poked out of the water like a tiny island. "Oh… hey there… Sans… didn't notice you… coming."

"don't sweat it, onionsan," Sans said. "hey, got kind of a weird question for ya. have you seen a human walking around? today, i mean?"

A stream of bubbles emerged from the water as Onionsan shook his head. "Not today, sorry." He lifted himself out of the water to give his dopey smile. "But! There's a stranger with a big coat that was nice to one of the Woshuas! We're not supposed to greet them with bullets… I guess they're shy."

"izzat so? they could be, onionsan." So the human had not yet fallen prey to the deep water and was not in danger from the monsters. That was good to hear. Still it left the nagging question: where the heck did she go?

* * *

 _In the end, it could hardly be called a war. United, the humans were too powerful and us monsters, too weak. Not a single soul was taken, and countless monsters were turned to dust._

Susan reread the plaque, hoping that if she saw it again the words would change. Her fingers traced over the words "turned to dust", immediately grasping the meaning. Not one? Humans were so much stronger than monsters that… they were all just slaughtered? Without killing even one of their attackers? She put her back to the wall and slowly slid down as her legs buckled from underneath her. Her butt hit the floor and she stared out into nothing. She wrapped her arms around her knees, shivering. Dead. So many monsters were dead at the hands of humans. He remembered Undyne's wide-toothed grin. Toriel's patient smile. Papyrus' exuberance. Asgore's gentleness. They had been wary, but so genuinely happy to see Silas and the rest of them. How? Faced with the same race which murdered their kind out of fear, how could they be so trusting and carefree? What had… what had humans ever done to earn forgiveness from the monsters?

"heya."

When Susan looked up there was a white sheet hovering in front of them. The ghost had wide eyes and a thin line for a mouth, and wore nothing but a snazzy top hat. "you've been reading the murals, huh? i try not to. they're a little depressing."

Susan laughed a little, but stopped when they noticed the ghost had the same blank expression. She tried to shift gears, "Who were you, when you were alive?"

The ghost shimmied back and forth in an approximation of a head shake. "alive? i've never been alive. oh… you must be another human. i'm napstablook. the hat… um, it's name is dapperblook."

"My name's Susan." She tried to smile but only managed to pull her lips tight. "It's a good hat. Looks cute."

"oh. thanks. that's good. mettaton wants me to wear it all the time from now on. he says it will 'improve my brand'. oh, mettaton is a robot tv star. he's at my house today looking to start a band with me and shyren. you can come listen to us 'jam out', if you want. i'm sure he'd love to meet you. but you don't have to if you don't want."

Her eyes went down again. "So he can take my soul?"

"he would never do that. he really likes humans. idolizes them, even."

She could only scoff. "Can't see why. We're awful."

Napstablook stared at her for a long moment with an unreadable look on his face. "i had a cousin that thought the same way he does… they loved humans and even started a fan club for them. i didn't understand them either. but the humans i've met have all been nice, so maybe there was something to it. you would have to ask him why he feels that way. i'm not saying that to pressure you, though. you can stay here if you'd rather."

Susan shook her head and untangled herself. "No… no, I'll go with you." She braced herself against the wall for support to stand, feeling like she was moving through molasses. "It's… not far is it?"

"there's a hill to get from here to there. there used to be a way through the dump, but undyne smashed the bridge while she was chasing the human and it's really dangerous now."

Susan opened her mouth to ask another question but closed it again. Why wouldn't Undyne have reacted violently to a human in the Underground? The humans had taken their lives, taken the sun, taken their freedom. What reason would any monster have to suspect a human underground meant anything but returning to take the little they had?

As promised, it did not take long to reach Napstablook's house. They went down a small hill, passed by a sparkling blue pool, and from there went through a short passage. Two houses stood next to each other, constructed in an odd fashion so they appeared to be drooping away from each other. In front of one of the houses was… another human? When she looked closely she could tell it was not; the body was wrong, and while the face was lifelike there was a sheen to it that no amount of makeup could replicate. "Yoohoo!" the creature called out, waving its noodle-like arm. "Looks like my premonition was right on target. The big-coat stranger _is_ a human!"

Napstablook explained, "a woshua told us about someone who was nice to his cousin who didn't want bullets thrown at them. mettaton figured out you were human just from that."

"It's no secret bullets are dangerous to humans," the creature (Mettaton?) said. As he spoke his arms weaved through the air in wide, flowing movements and his body turned this way and that for emphasis. Much like some people spoke with their hands as much as their voice, Mettaton's entire body became a conduit for enunciation. "Brains and beauty. I really am the total package!"

"You sure know a lot about humans," Susan said while staring at her shoelaces. "I don't… I can't see what makes you think we're so great. We never gave you a chance, we just… killed so many of you and stuck the rest under the earth to rot. Now I know why Undyne didn't want me knowing this; most people would never believe you were willing to forgive us. I… don't know if _I_ forgive us. Ha, no wonder the people in the capital were so scared of me. They remember that far back, huh?"

Mettaton blinked. "Well, if it's the capital that probably has more to do with the massacre."

Susan whipped her head up, the sick feeling in her stomach redoubling. "The _what_?"

"oh no," Napstablook panicked, their hat drooping over their head to cover their eyes. "i thought you already knew since you'd been through the capital. we didn't mean to upset you. oh no…"

Mettaton waved them off, "She would have learned from somebody if not from us. Hmmmm let's see, I think it was seven or eight years ago? It was before I, er, was activated anyway. A human made it into the capital and oh my was it awful! They may have been a child but they still killed thirty or forty monsters before the Royal Scientist showed up and… stopped them."

The human swallowed and clenched her teeth. One human, just one, killed so many monsters, and at the end… "Alphys? Alphys did that?"

"What? No! Alphys would never hurt anyone. She's far too much of a softy. It was the Royal Scientist before her… hm, it was…" Mettaton snapped his fingers as he tried to remember the name. "Gaster! Yes, that was it, Dr. Gaster! Not many other monsters could kill a human single-handedly. I mean, even a superb specimen such as _moi_ failed to kill Frisk even when I was putting all my prodigious talent to-"

Susan took a step backward, feeling ready to scream. "You… you tried to kill Frisk? You?!I thought- Napstablook said you loved humans!"

Mettaton paused in mid-gyration. His head swiveled around to look deep into Susan's eyes. "… Nobody told you _anything_ , did they?"

"NGAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

An explosion between them kicked off a massive cloud of dust. Susan had to take a step backward and cover her eyes and mouth to keep the debris from entering, and even that did not prevent a few coughs. As the cloud thinned Susan risked opening an eye to see a panting and manic-looking Undyne glaring at her. "There you are!" she shouted. "Didn't I warn you not to leave Snowdin? You could've at least waited for me! What was I gonna tell your friends if you got hurt and I wasn't there to protect you, huh?!"

"Undyne…" Susan bit her lip, burying the apology for leaving town deep in her stomach. Instead she pointed at Mettaton and ordered, "Undyne, call the police so they can arrest this… monster! He tried to kill Frisk!"

Undyne looked from Susan to Mettaton and back again. Her scowl disappeared, to be replaced with a look of deep shame. "Uh… yeah. I think… most of us in the Kingdom tried to kill Frisk at one point or another." She held up a hand to stop Susan's protest. "If this is as far as you've gotten, there's one more set of plaques you should read. They'll explain everything. Just… please try to understand."

Susan clutched at her chest. There was such pain in her heart, such a tightness in her throat, that she did not know how she would ever recover. The monsters were so nice. They were so lovable and friendly. So why? Why would the whole kingdom, all of monsterkind, try to murder a child? How could they even think such a thing?

She got her answer after a short walk.

 _Hurt, beaten, and fearful for our lives we surrendered to the humans. Seven of their greatest magicians sealed us underground with a magic spell. Anything can enter through the seal, but only beings with a powerful soul can leave. There is only one way to reverse this spell. If a huge power, equivalent to seven human souls, attacks the barrier it will be destroyed._

Seven. Her throat felt dry; she swallowed saliva but it was like pouring a thimble into the Sahara. A horrible suspicion bloomed in her mind. Seven souls. Seven coffins. Six kids, with Frisk being the seventh. She turned to stare directly at Undyne. To her credit Undyne did not look away, meeting Susan's gaze even if her eyes wavered. "Undyne. Over the last few decades, six children went missing from Weymouth. Nobody's ever seen or heard from them again. Frisk would have been the seventh. You don't… do you… were they…?" Undyne jutted out her chin and a deep shame suffused into her eyes, which was all the confirmation Susan needed. It was true.

She wiped at her eyes with her hands but it was no use. No matter how much she rubbed they were still wet and burning. "What the hell," she croaked. "What the hell! How… how could you?"

Undyne took a breath before starting, "Listen, I asked you to try and understand-"

"No, no, I understand. You've lived your whole life underground. No fresh air, no sun, only darkness for centuries. And there was a way out, a simple solution to free all your people. All you had to do was _murder six children_!" Her voice rose to a shout at the end as she stuffed all her indignation and betrayed hopes into the accusation.

Undyne's face strained in a tight wince. "C'mon, it wasn't like that!"

"Then tell me how it was! Please, tell me they died natural deaths! Tell me they got sick, tell me there were accidents, tell me anything!" Each of her exhalations threatened to devolve into uncontrollable sobs but maintained their position on the boundary. She looked to Undyne imploringly. "Can you? Please, I'm begging you, tell me I'm wrong. The monsters… no monsters killed them, right?"

For a moment Susan dared to believe there was some other explanation. She would have accepted anything; she would have believed any story no matter how contrived or ridiculous. She did not want to believe the monsters were capable of this. But then Undyne hung her head and that hope flickered and died. So she unbarred the gates and let the tears out.

She didn't want to reject the monsters. The memories of the campfire, the fun they had on the drive to Silas' condo, even the banter she had shared with Undyne on the way here. She liked the monsters… no, she loved them, even after Silas warned her. She didn't want to give them up. But it was too much. She had only met them yesterday, and she was being asked to accept this part of them right out of the gate? And no, they didn't deserve to live in darkness forever… but what about those kids? Did they deserve to die so the monsters could be free?

Undyne reached out to give her a comforting hug. Just a few hours prior Susan would have happily dived into that embrace. Now her arms seemed like the doors of an iron maiden ready to slam shut around her. She shrank away from them, curling in on herself. The movement was not lost on Undyne, who let her hands fall helplessly. "Please," Susan said, her voice barely a whisper. "Don't kill me. I won't… I won't tell anyone, I swear. I-I just want to go home."

Undyne stared at her for a moment before turning with military precision. "I'll lead you out of the Underground," she said, and walked on. "Follow me." Susan let her get a few steps ahead and followed, still clutching her elbows.

* * *

AN: I know some people really liked the original version of this chapter, where Susan immediately accepted what the monsters did and understood their point of view, but the more I thought about it the more I realized Susan wouldn't think it fair to the children who died to forgive so easily. It also leaves nowhere for her character to go; it's more meaningful to the character and the story if she has to struggle a little. She doesn't hate the monsters for what happened, not at all, but she needs more time to process this before saying everything is okay.


	7. It Always Comes Out

AN: There are some bits reused and/or repurposed from an earlier version of this chapter, but the changes are myriad and significant enough that it should be treated as "new".

WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of transphobia and unsupportive parents, as well as thoughts and rationalizations potentially similar to ones a child might use to minimize/deny their own abuse.

* * *

 _There's a little bit of a disconnect here; the Purple soul is the second soul we gathered, but the Green souled human was the third to fall down (counting Chara as the first, naturally). The Kindness soul must have stayed with you for a long time. I feel like during that time she must have told you most of what I found out already and a lot more besides, so I'm including this information for the sake of completeness. You might want to give this to someone else after all, and they won't have the same background info. You said her name was Marijane but on the surface she was born as Wendell Sunapee, and all the official records still list her as a boy. Dr. Gaster's old documents claimed that humans are given a gender at birth based on their physical shape, which seems completely backwards to me? But Silas told me they still do this, so, hm. Marijane rebelled against her assigned gender starting from when she was still very young, preferring dresses and skirts to pants and asking when her "girl parts" would come in. At first her parents thought it was a phase, but her feelings only grew stronger as time passed. They tried to force her to live as a boy; instead she got friends from school to give her their old clothes so she could wear them in secret. Her parents found out about this hobby and their reaction was… bad. So bad she fled the house that night. They have since made a public apology and even went on television to ask their daughter for forgiveness and to come home, but of course it didn't work. She could never have received their message underground, or returned even if she wanted to. They are still alive and still miss their little girl, though they are no longer together. All things considered I can't recommend Asgore meet with them but… I think if you can forgive them, they would really like to talk with you._

 _As for what happened to her, or any of the humans after they left you… I'm sorry. I didn't have the authority or resources to add the surveillance system to the Underground until after the sixth human's massacre, when public demand forced Dr. Gaster to stop vetoing my every request to set up the cameras. I never found out why he was so against it… he was the Judge, how was he making his decisions on whether a human was worthy of meeting Asgore if he never even saw the humans before the Judgment Hall…?_

* * *

Silas took a slight detour on the way home; Frisk needed new clothes posthaste. He could get the rest of their clothing when he was officially their foster parent or even take them to the store to get a whole new wardrobe tomorrow if he had to, but for now he just needed a clean outfit to put them in. To that end he got a variety of shirts and shorts of slightly different sizes to make sure at least one set would fit. He also grabbed a set of socks and underwear ( _Briefs or panties?_ , he asked himself before shrugging and buying both) on his way to the registers. He was leery of leaving the monsters in the car alone, especially with Asgore and Toriel crammed together in so close an environment, but after Chad bailed he did not dare ask Marty to do this errand alone and time was running out. It turned out not to be big deal; he was in and out of the clothing store in fifteen minutes and when he returned Papyrus was leading the two boss monsters in an in-depth discussion of puzzle theory. Asgore and Toriel were co-operating, arguing about the need for a gentle hand and that the consequences of failure should be minor and non-permanent, while Papyrus insisted an element of danger was necessary to evoke the right mood. Silas had nothing to offer on the subject and simply left them to it as they drove home.

He had barely parked the car in the garage before he started giving commands, "Toriel, deliver the clothes to Frisk and get them in the bath, I want them clean and dressed again within the hour. As soon as you do come back downstairs. Asgore, Papyrus, pull Alphys away from whatever she's doing and stay in the living room. Get comfortable; I somehow doubt the discussion we're about to have is going to be any fun."

A few moments later Frisk was in the bath, where they would not be intruding into any difficult conversations. Alphys nervously glanced from side to side from her seat in the middle of the couch, Papyrus and Toriel flanking her. Asgore stood proudly on the side of the room opposite Silas. Marty kicked back in the recliner, wondering why everyone had really serious expressions all of a sudden. "Uh." Everyone turned toward Martin. He smiled awkwardly at everyone. "Should I… step away for a minute? This looks pretty serious, and-"

"No, you stay," Silas insisted. "You have as much of a right to know as I do. Asgore, Toriel, everyone. Is there something we should know about before we continue helping you? Something about the barrier and how it was destroyed?"

Alphys wrung her hands together, a fine silt leaking from between her hands to pile into her lap. "A-Are you… really sure you want to know? I mean… what are you going to do if it's… a crime?"

In other words, it _was_ a crime. Sometimes Silas hated being right. "I am a defense counsel. When someone has committed or been accused of committing a crime I stand by their side and try very hard to make sure they do not get punished. I have defended thugs, thieves, murderers, and rapists. Some of them were innocent of the crimes of which they were accused; many were not. Their ultimate guilt or innocence was, as far as I was concerned, irrelevant. It was my job to defend them so I did. The police are under pressure to solve crimes and close cases; they will not respect a suspect's rights if those rights get in the way of peace. In a courtroom the prosecutor's job is to use all available evidence to prove the defendant is guilty. Most are above-board and will play by the rules, but not all of them. Some will conceal evidence which contradicts their narrative, use witness testimony they know is unreliable, or even falsify evidence to catch someone they 'know' is a bad guy. My job is to make sure my client's rights are protected, and that the state has the evidence to prove my client did what they claim. I'm there to make sure everyone else is doing their job properly, because if I don't the system will chew up anyone that gets thrown into it without caring about whether it's right or just or fair.

"In a courtroom I am very frequently the only friend an accused person has. No one else is looking out for them. No one else cares what happens to them." He looked at her. "I don't care what you're hiding. I will be on your side regardless. I can't not."

Papyrus nodded solemnly. "I see," he said. "This is the form your justice takes. Papyrus approves!" He gave him a thumbs up. "Your majesties, I think we can trust Silas. He has done so much for us already without asking for anything in return. The least we can do is put our faith in him."

Silas warned, "I will need you to tell me everything, every last dirty secret that humanity might fear and hate you for. Whether it's as major as detonating nukes or as minor as farting in church, I need to know about it. If I know about it I can help you prepare for it and mitigate the damage. If I get surprised you're sunk."

Toriel hesitated. "Will knowing our secrets not cause problems for you? Would it be easier for you to defend us if you do not know?"

He shrugged. "If I'm defending you I can't be forced to testify against you in court, and knowing all the details will allow me to put forth a better legal strategy. That being said, once you've admitted to me you've done something I can't ethically claim you didn't do it. But there is a vast gulf between telling a prosecutor 'they did not do it' and 'you cannot prove beyond a reasonable doubt they did it', and that should be more than sufficient." He chose to remain silent about how if things actually got so bad that the monsters were dragged into a criminal hearing they had probably already lost. By that point public opinion would be so soured on the monsters that integration would be nearly or completely impossible.

Toriel and Asgore looked at each other. Toriel nodded once, then Asgore said, "Your terms are acceptable. We will hold nothing back."

Silas took a deep breath through his nose. "We'll start with the incident thirty years ago, the 'white beast' legend." The crestfallen look on their faces was answer enough. "Alright, so you were involved in that. You've been told what the human version of events was. What was the monster perspective?"

Toriel swallowed and stared at the tablecloth. "That 'white beast'… was our son, Asriel. He was distraught by the death of his human friend and crossed the barrier to bring them home to rest."

Clearly this had been the wrong question to ask first. He felt like he had walked into the third reel of a film. "I need to ask you to back up a bit. There were humans in the underground?"

Toriel and Asgore stiffened noticeably. It was Papyrus who filled in the silence: "Oh! This is a very old story! You see, there were no humans in the underground for a very long time. Then one day a child fell in the deepest part of the underground. Asriel found them and helped them back to the castle, and that's how Chara came to live with the royal family! Not many people ever saw the human Chara, but whenever they did it was almost always in Prince Asriel's company. They were the very best of friends! But one day Chara became very sick, and died shortly after. After their death they-" Papyrus cut himself off. "Oh, perhaps this isn't a story I should be telling."

"It is fine, Papyrus," Toriel said gently. "He said we should tell him everything. You see, a human soul is very powerful, so strong it continues to exist for a little while after their death. During that time a monster can absorb the human's soul and obtain great power. That was what Asriel did; he absorbed Chara's soul and became strong enough to cross through the barrier. He was attempting to return Chara's body to the human village, which we now know was Weymouth. But…"

Asgore stepped in, "We did not see what happened on the surface. We only know our son returned gravely wounded. He said… he very strongly asserted he did not fight back. Then he… he died in our arms."

Silence descended over the table. Silas bit his knuckle and shut his eyes tight. No wonder Asgore and Toriel were at each other's throats. He did not have direct experience in this but it was common knowledge that very few couples survived the death of a child. "I see. I… am sorry for your loss."

"It is a very old story," Toriel echoed, her voice hollow.

"Not nearly old enough," he was unable to stop himself from saying. "So the barrier prevented monsters from leaving. A monster who absorbs a human soul can leave, but they can't destroy the barrier. So how, exactly, was it destroyed? Why only now, after what you claim is a thousand years?"

"We are unsure," Asgore said. "We were, all the monsters, rendered unconscious. When we awoke the barrier was gone. Frisk may know more but so far they refuse to speak of it and I do not wish to hurt them by prying."

Toriel simmered, "You know you are not answering the question, Dreemurr." She looked at Silas. "We have some idea how they did it. The only thing which could break the barrier was seven human souls working in concert. Asgore had already collected six, and Frisk was the seventh."

"Hold up. You… 'collected'… six human souls?" Here they were. The meat of the matter. He took a breath to steady himself. "You already know what I'm going to ask."

"Children." Toriel stared hard at Asgore, who shrunk from the glare. "The souls of six children. They climbed Mt. Ebott, and the monsters who should have been their allies were instead told to harvest their souls. On the orders of the king! Six children died for our freedom!"

"Six dead kids." Silas tapped his fingers together, his expression darkening. He was expecting worse, but this was still very bad. Ha, that was understating the problem, wasn't it? He glanced at Marty, who had paled noticeably. Marty swallowed as he returned Silas' gaze, his face grim. Silas ran his fingers through his hair and growled, "Six dead kids, _fuck!_ " He took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. "Is this true?"

"It is true," Asgore said, his voice breaking. "After Asriel's death I promised our people freedom and that I would use seven human souls to do it. I ordered the humans to be brought before me so I could claim their souls. But I… I lost my nerve. Four times a child was dragged to me in chains, and each time I ordered them imprisoned. I said there was no need to kill them until we had the seven we needed. I thought I could protect my people and the humans both, by keeping them separate until the time came to break the barrier. But I was wrong; each time they died in custody and their soul was captured. I suspected foul play but try as I might I could never track down the perpetrator."

Silas crossed his arms. "Any suspects?"

"A few. Quilt, the Captain of the Royal Guard at the time, had responsibility of the prisoners and would have had no trouble gaining access to them. But she was maintaining peace in the capital when the second human died and she was with me when the third child died. She had no alibi for the fourth child and resigned rather than head an investigation in which she was a suspect. Her successor, Doge, was called away to Waterfall because a child attacked a postman and could not have killed the fifth. The previous Royal Scientist Dr. Wing Din Gaster was the prime suspect for each murder, but his EXP was still 0 and his LOVE 1 even after the death of the fifth human. He _did_ , however, kill the sixth human in self defense. She escaped into the capital and went on a rampage, killing dozens of my subjects before Dr. Gaster stopped her. She-"

"Lies!" Toriel slammed her palms down on the table. The temperature of the room jumped five degrees at once and felt hotter by the moment. "She was a sweet girl with an upright moral character! She loved to dance, she sang, she listened to me talk about snails with such wonder in her eyes. She would not want to hurt anyone. She would never have killed anyone, let alone…!"

Asgore shook his head. "I did not want to believe it either. But we have camera footage. We have photos of rooms full of dust. We have families broken, friends lost, children orphaned. I do not know her reasons, but the child did these things." Toriel made no reply. She balled her paws into fists and stared into them, teeth clenched.

Silas held up a hand. "And… a _child_ did that? How could one human kill so many of you?"

Asgore opened his mouth, then closed it again while looking away. "I… do not know if it is a good idea to say this, but human souls are much stronger than monster souls. If a human means to do us harm, even a child can kill one of us with ease. I may be this size with commensurate strength, but a human filled with hatred or fear could kill me with one blow, however clumsy or ill-fitting the weapon may be."

"So you're saying that not only are you accepting blame for the murder of children committed by your subjects, but any retaliatory strike by a human seeking revenge would be almost certainly fatal." He felt an icy fist of despair close around his heart. It was impossible. Someone would surely try to take justice into their own hands, the families of those children if no one else. If there were even a single successful attack all of humanity would know how weak monsters were. Humanity's track record concerning people weaker than the dominant cultural force was… rather poor. If the monsters were lucky humanity would find some use for monsters and enslave them. If they weren't… then damn it, the monsters really were correct to fear genocide. He pushed that to the back of his mind. He could gnash his teeth about all this later in private, he would not fall to pieces in front of his clients. He would not! "Where is this Dr. Gaster now?"

Asgore's response was simple and final: "Dead." Toriel shivered at this; did she not know? "He resigned his posts as Royal Scientist and Judge after the incident but continued working in the labs. There was an accident during one of his experiments; the dust of the victims was never recovered, but the lone survivor of the incident said Gaster fell into his creation and vanished."

"What about the seventh human? The last before Frisk?"

Asgore shook his head. "Killed himself. My new Judge brought them to me with a head wound caused by their own weapon, a 'gun'. He hoped I would be able to heal the child, but the damage was far too great. He never told me how it happened and I, the coward, never asked." Papyrus audibly sucked in air between his teeth and tapped on the table in a nervous staccato but said nothing.

A chill went down Silas' spine as he realized something. "And… Frisk? What of them? I find it hard to believe you would have just let them go. They were the last soul you needed. It's what you needed to break the barrier. You aren't going to tell me nothing happened, are you?"

Asgore closed his eyes. "You would need to get the story of their journey from them. Frisk came to me on their own feet, but not of their free will. They had no choice; my castle is directly in the way of the barrier. Moreover they needed my soul. A human soul by itself is not strong enough to cross the barrier; only a human soul and a monster soul combined may leave. Monster souls vanish instantly and cannot be absorbed, with one exception: Boss Monsters, like Toriel and myself, have slightly stronger souls which persist for a moment or two after our deaths. In order for Frisk to leave the Underground they had to kill me. I was prepared to fight and most likely lose… but everyone came and stopped us."

Could he trust Asgore? The stories certainly seemed convenient, neatly absolving any living monsters of all direct blame. A little too pat, a little too perfect. "Where are the corpses?"

"I placed them in coffins fashioned for the purpose… one held the first human, Chara. Toriel took their body with her when she left. The other six hold the children who came after. We are prepared to turn them over to the surviving families of the children as soon as reasonable."

"I assume this is all common knowledge among the monsters. We're never going to be able to keep all of them quiet so we might as well not try. The secret would get out, secrets _always_ get out, especially when so many know them. So… you'll have to admit it. Come clean, in public and without hiding anything. If what you said is true, then nothing that you've done is actually a prosecutable crime; saying you will kill people is not a crime, even saying children deserve to die isn't a crime, so it's the court of public opinion where we'll be making our case."

A fire lit up in Toriel's eyes as she realized what Silas was saying. "You want him to escape punishment."

"No," Silas explained. "I want _all_ of you to escape punishment. There's no reason to think any retribution will end with Asgore, so our best bet is to make sure it doesn't get started. And I think I know how to do it. First we humanize you, if you'll pardon the expression. Tell some stories about Chara and Asriel, play up the sympathy. If we can make the public feel your sorrow they will be more inclined to think kindly of you. Make the public see you as grieving parents and caring leaders, help them understand the desperation of living underground for generations. It won't convince anyone killing children is correct but it will stay their hands from revenge long enough for other arguments to get through."

Toriel hugged herself, shivering. "It feels ghoulish to use their deaths like that."

"But it's the truth. Everything that happened is because of grief, yours and Asgore's. There's no reason to hide that, in fact it can excuse quite a lot. Second, mitigate the circumstances and muddy the waters. Toriel can describe her interactions with the children; Asgore, you can play up your inability to follow through on your own orders. Pull up the results of your investigations into the deaths of the second through fifth children, the police may want to pick up where you left off. Whatever evidence you have for the sixth child's crimes be ready to present it and prove she was a legitimate threat. Get your judge up here and have them talk about the seventh child, you may not have asked before but if they know something it needs to come out. By showing our hands so willingly it will be difficult for people to say we are hiding something and harder still for them to find a single point to focus on. Bury the humans in information, so by the time they have processed it all the media will have moved on. Third, diffuse responsibility among all the monsters. What is a horrible crime for a person is a statistic for a nation. If we keep it simmering without allowing it to boil over for long enough, then eventually it won't matter; monsters will have gained a foothold on the surface, and will be too valuable to punish. There is a great deal that a person will overlook when their continued comfort relies on them not acknowledging it."

" _Jesus._ " All eyes went Marty was sitting up at the couch and looking at Silas in a mixture of horror and respect. "This is how you work? God damn. One, I think you're a piece of shit for trying to whitewash child murder. Two, I _so_ want you as my lawyer if I ever get in trouble."

Silas honestly was unsure how to take that. "Thanks…? More importantly-"

"I'm still on board." Marty nodded confidently, though his face twisted. "I said I was with you and I'll be with you no matter how this ends up. I still think you're doing the right thing. That's what my heart says even if my head isn't quite there yet."

Silas blinked. Since when had he ever inspired so much confidence in his abilities? And when was Marty ever so loyal and intense? Was this really the same Martin who, when the biology teacher insisted there was no such thing as a stupid question, raised his hand to ask, "Do trees fart?"

"Very well then." He returned his attention to the monarchs. "I assume that was the worst. God, I hope that was the worst. But is there anything else?"

"Um!" Alphys raised her hand timidly. "I! I am… er, was, the Royal Scientist. Not very long ago I attempted an experiment that I hoped would lead to a way to break the barrier without any other humans having to fall down. It… didn't work very well."

Silas folded his fingers and narrowed his eyes. "How 'not well' are we talking here?"

Alphys wringed her hands nervously and spoke as if addressing them, not raising her eyes. "W-well, I was trying to see if a monster soul could be made to survive past-"

"The short version, if you please," Asgore prompted with a kindly smile.

"Oh! Well then, you see… I asked for the bodies of monsters that had, well, Fallen Down. There was no hope for them, all but dead. I told the families about my experiments, and that I would give the dust back for the funerals once everything was over. And uh, long story short, I brought them back to life but they all fused together into these… creatures. I couldn't return them to the family members, and it became a huge mess! That's… how I lost my job."

Silas leaned back in his chair. "So you experimented on corpses with the full consent of the surviving family members. I fail to see the concern."

"Silas!" Toriel stared at him with a slack jaw.

"Legally and ethically speaking she's in the clear," he replied. "The bodies were donated to science. She told the donating survivors what she was going to do and what she hoped to accomplish. What happened may have been terrible, but it was clearly an unforeseen and unforeseeable consequence of her experiments. She fulfilled her obligations to the best of her ability. Past that… any guilt she may feel or public outrage against it is outside the scope of my profession. The only thing I can suggest is advocating to ban similar experiments. Since no humans were directly impacted by any of this, if you take steps to make sure it doesn't happen again there should be no problem. Is that it?"

Asgore and Toriel shared a glance. Something passed between them that Silas could not read, an agreement or understanding. "No," Asgore said, while still looking into Toriel's eyes. Only then did he turn towards Silas and repeat, "No, there is nothing."

"You're sure?"

"You asked about what the monsters did wrong. I believe we have enumerated our crimes to you. We are of course keeping other secrets, but they are personal matters."

Silas gripped his knuckles tightly. Asgore was willing to admit being an accessory to the deaths of six children, but there was another secret he would not divulge? That made his curiosity sit up and take notice. However… "I would dearly love to press you further on this, but trust has to go both ways I suppose. I'll trust you that whatever you aren't telling me won't bite us all later. In the meantime, Martin, I'm going to need one more favor from you tonight."

"You sure are working me like a dog," he snickered. "Whatchu need?"

"Take the SUV. Drive the monsters around, all of them. Sightseeing, fast food, I don't care where. But the inspector from Child Services will arrive soon, and the monsters can't be here for that if we don't want them all over the six o'clock news. I'll text you as soon as they're gone."

Toriel perked up. "This is the last thing you need before you become Frisk's foster parent, yes?"

"It is, though it won't be official until we get all the paperwork. That won't be until Tuesday or so, I don't think. That reminds me, I already printed the paperwork we'll need to get Frisk registered for school. We'll tackle that when you return."

"Oh." Toriel deflated. "I had… hoped I would be able to teach them."

"I'll take it under advisement," Silas said without much sympathy. "But for the foreseeable future you'll all be too busy to take care of Frisk's schooling, and they'll develop strange habits if they aren't around other kids their age. We can revisit the matter once things have calmed down." The thought also occurred to him that he did not want Frisk to become too close or too dependent on the monsters. Frisk's journey could not have been all sunshine and rainbows, not when they had the last soul needed for their freedom. There was more to Frisk's relationship to the monsters than mere friendship, there was an ugliness somewhere beneath the surface he was suddenly desperate to plumb. He needed to know more. Depending on how things went or what he found he might have to break his promise to Toriel. The idea did not give him much pause. After all, sometimes you had to be a bad person to do the right thing.

* * *

Frisk held the towel wrapped around their chest with one hand as they considered the shirts lying on their new bed. They put a finger to their lips and "hmmmmm"ed. Each of the shirts was horizontally striped, ranging in colors from orange and blue to black and red and several others. They all looked pretty good and they were having trouble deciding. "What do you think, Chara?"

Chara was in the far corner of the room, face stuffed into the angle like they were in time out. They had "taken a nap" while Frisk was in the bath, disappearing to keep themself from sharing Frisk's sensations. They said at the time they had no interest in peeking on Frisk, but they both knew the real reason. As soon as Frisk was done and in their room again to get dressed they called for Chara to wake them up. Chara did not appreciate being called in such a scenario; as soon as they noticed Frisk's state of undress they turned bright red and averted their eyes, and had remained that way for the past several minutes. "I don't care, I have no opinion! Just wear whatever fits. But if any of them are green and gold, don't wear that one!"

"Yeah, wasn't gonna." There was a shirt like that, and Frisk shoved it back into the shopping bag as soon as they laid eyes on it. Wearing a shirt with the same color scheme as their previous children would give Asgore and Toriel heart attacks. Trying on one of the other options, the black shirt with red stripes was so big they were practically swimming in it. Next they tried the blue long-sleeved shirt with the two thin yellow stripes across the chest like an equals sign, and this one was a little better. Good enough for now. Frisk looked between the panties and the briefs for a moment, shrugged, and picked one to put on. The khaki shorts fit well, but the small pockets would have been a dealbreaker if Frisk did not have their phone to store all their food and other useful stuff. All they needed now was the new ankle socks and… "Done! How do I look?"

Chara removed their face from the corner and looked Frisk up and down, sighing in relief. "Not bad," they said. "The sleeves are a little long…"

Frisk shook their head and pulled the sleeves down over their fingers. "Look! Mittens!"

Chara covered their mouth to stifle a laugh. "I stand corrected. They seem to be the perfect size!"

Just then a knock sounded. "Frisk? Are you decent?" Toriel called. Frisk made an affirmative "mmm" and she opened the door. "I wanted to make sure you were all set. You see, I and the rest of the monsters must leave again. It will only be for a short time, no more than a few hours. Someone from your government will be here to make sure this place is alright for you to stay, and Silas does not want us here to upset the inspector. While they are here Martin will show us around the city some more. Call me silly, I know you are strong enough to have gone through all of the underground alone, I just need a little assurance you'll be alright."

"I unnerstand," Frisk said with a nod. "I'll wait with Mr. Pembrooke." So they would have Silas all to themself? Then again it was not as if they would be completely alone. Their vision shifted over to Chara, whose smile turned subtly mocking just as Frisk's chest got warm and fluffy thinking of Mr. Pembrooke.

Toriel smiled. "Such a brave child. If you're done getting dressed, come downstairs so we can have a proper goodbye." She kept the door open a tiny crack for a brief moment so she could smile at them once more through the tiny sliver before closing it softly.

Chara opened their mouth to say something and Frisk held up a finger. "Don't," they warned.

The ghost rolled their eyes. "I didn't say anything."

"But you're thinking it."

"Nothing wrong with that." There was a pause as they both considered their next move, then Chara asked, "So… about the anime you watched with Alphys."

Frisk nodded. "You were right. It's easy to tell Kojima is the bad guy."

"Right?!" Chara beamed, their face lighting up like they had never seen them. "I would say it's supposed to be obvious, but they treat the eventual reveal like it's some huge revelation so it comes off as insulting to the audience." Frisk nodded as they went to follow Toriel downstairs.

Frisk bade farewell to the monsters, unable to keep the tears completely out of their eyes even though they knew it would only be for a very short time. "Don't worry little guy," Marty said. "I'll make sure to keep 'em safe. We'll be back before you know it." Asgore nodded his assent, though Alphys looked as nervous as ever.

"Indeed!" Papyrus said. "This is a vital fact-finding trip! By watching surface humans in their natural habitat we can learn much more about them than we can through books or television!"

"That is very true, Papyrus," Toriel said. She knelt down to give Frisk one last hug, which they dove into with abandon. "We will return as soon as we are able. I will see you again soon." She pressed her muzzle against Frisk's neck, the soft fur tickling a little bit before she walked out with everyone else.

And then they were alone with Silas Pembrooke.

Their stomach twisted into a knot. Why were they so nervous? Some part of them wanted this, right? But now that they were here they were unsure what to do next. And Chara snickering next to them was not doing anything positive for their nerves.

Silas spoke first: "With everything the way it's been we haven't had much of a chance to speak. I understand you might not fully trust me, but I assure you I only want what is best for you."

Frisk followed behind him as he walked into the kitchen. "Um," they started, not sure how they were going to phrase what they wanted to say. "Thank you, Mr. Pembrooke. For… you know, eveything. Helping the monsters, taking them in, being my new foster dad. It means a lot that I still get to live with them."

Silas' expression darkened. "Yes, about that. Can we talk for a moment?" Despite not even being a parent yet he had already mastered the tone of voice adults used when the question they were asking wasn't actually a question. Silas knelt down on one knee, placing himself just below Frisk's eye level. "I need to ask you something very important. I understand we only just met, but this is something I have to know for your own safety. Tell me the truth: did the monsters ever hurt you?"

Frisk's moment of panic was an ice cube on their neck. They should have expected something like this. The monsters _had_ attacked them, even if they were sorry. But if they admitted that Silas might get the wrong idea. How much did he know? Probably enough, if he was asking. Could they explain things to him in a way he would understand? "It's… it's not like what you're thinking. They were scared." _I was scared too._ They smothered the thought; it didn't matter that they had been scared, they were better now, the monsters were better, everything was fine. "And… and they really wanted to leave! They're not mean, they won't do it again!"

Silas inhaled deeply, the curl at the corner of his mouth a glimpse into his complicated and contradictory feelings. He stood and reached over and picked up Frisk's blue and lilac shirt, the one that had seen them through the whole underground, which had been lying on the table. He made a rumbling sound in his throat as he rubbed his thumb over the singe marks on the sleeves. Holes burnt by Toriel's fire magic.

Chara inhaled sharply and swallowed. "He suspects," they warned. "He saw Toriel's fire magic just last night. There's no way he won't think of it."

"Perhaps I should ask a more specific question." Silas continued staring at the holes. "Did _Toriel_ ever hurt you?"

Frisk was too old and had too many problems to be adopted by a human family. This was their last chance, they knew after this no one would ever want to take them again. Frisk wanted to trust Silas, but he wouldn't understand. He wasn't even trying to understand. If they told him the truth he would definitely get the wrong idea. He would make sure Toriel never saw them again and they would lose their chance at a family. So they flattened their features, looked him dead in the eye, and told him, "No."

Silas squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, crumpling up the shirt into a ball. "… Alright. I'll leave it at that for now." Silas threw the shirt into the laundry room and adjusted his coat. "I'm not angry, and I won't be mad if you change your answer later. Just… give it some thought." At that moment the doorbell rang. Silas sighed, "That's probably the inspector. I wish you'd chosen a shirt that fits better but there's nothing for it now. I can take you clothes shopping tomorrow." Frisk could not suppress a sigh; was there ever a kid anywhere that liked clothes shopping? "Remember to greet the inspector kindly and be on your best behavior, if she finds something out of place on this visit I really don't know what will happen." They nodded but he was not even looking at them, instead moving to open the door.

Standing on the other side was a woman in a blouse with a pencil skirt and mousy-brown hair done up in a ponytail. She held a clipboard in the crook of her arm, pressed against her chest in a defensive posture. Something about her was vaguely familiar, but Frisk was sure they had not seen her more than a handful of times. As soon as the door opened her gaze went to Silas and then quickly around, eyes lighting up on seeing the child. "Frisk!" the woman shouted. She rushed in and crouched to be at Frisk's eye level. It was taking visible effort for the woman to restrain herself from hugging Frisk. "Thank God you're okay! Don't run away like that again! I was so worried about you! Was there something wrong with the Hancocks? Did they hurt you?"

The Hancocks? Oh, the foster family they were staying with before… everything. It felt like a lifetime ago. Frisk shook their head. "N-no, Mr. and Mrs. Hancock were nice. I… I messed up and they said…"

"I know what they said," the woman growled. "Don't worry about them, what they said is _not_ true. You are a good child and you deserve to grow up happy and healthy. You hear me? We're not going to give up on you so-"

Silas coughed to remind the woman of both his presence and her admirable if unprofessional behavior. "You… know Frisk personally?"

"In a sense," the woman said, straightening up. "I'm Ms. Ashland, the social worker in charge of Frisk's case. You must be Silas Pembrooke?" She sized up the man. "I don't know what you did to end up in such an unorthodox situation, but even if I'm under orders from on high to rubber stamp this I will be diligent. I'm personally doing this inspection, _on a Saturday_ , because I have to see for myself that Frisk is ending up in a good home. I'll start with the living space. Can you show me around?" Silas' eyes narrowed in that 'you just told me a lot more than you intended to' way that he loved doing and waved her inside, walking her toward the kitchen.

Now that Frisk thought about it, this lady had said a long time ago they would be in charge of finding Frisk a good foster home and making sure they were adjusting well. They had hardly seen her at all since that time; she came to check on them about a week after they were placed in a new home and maybe once or twice while they were between homes, and each time she seemed to think of them as a nuisance. She would ask how they felt in a way that made it clear she did not care overmuch about the answer, complain how hard it was getting to find new foster parents for them ("Most of these people don't know what non-binary even _means_!" they remembered her saying), and skipped out on the required meetings with their various foster parents more than a few times. So what was with that greeting at the door? When had she started caring so much? Frisk wiped a scowl off their face before turning to follow the grown-ups.

* * *

AN: Trivia! The third human's soul was originally blue when they fell down, not green. However, young children are very impressionable and Marijane stayed with Toriel for six years. This allowed her to adopt enough of the Boss Monster's worldview to push her Kindness above her Integrity, changing her soul color accordingly. This is not at all a bad thing or a sad thing. Soul colors are descriptive and not prescriptive; it is most certainly not a metaphysical force telling you what you "should" or "ought" to be. For the record, Marijane is not the only one of the children whose Soul Color changed due to their experiences; before living with their grandparents Chara had a Purple soul, but their experiences on the surface wore down their ability to cope enough that Love became their dominant trait.  
In Toriel's boss fight she presents Frisk with a choice: either get burned to death by balls of fire (however small the risk is that she'll kill them the risk is still there and she is very much aware of it), or kill the woman who was ready to accept the title and duty of their mother after knowing them for all of ten minutes. Neither choice is great for the physical or mental health of an eight year old. I don't believe Toriel's behavior qualifies as "abuse" necessarily, but she never apologizes, is never forced to confront it, and no other character ever mentions it. Very rarely if ever do fans of the game even talk about how messed up her actions are. By contrast, Asgore also attacked Frisk but he didn't appoint himself in a nurturing or protective role before turning on them or get sanctimonious about the whole ordeal unlike some goatmoms I could name. Sorry Toriel fans, I still think she's a good person but sweeping her sins under the rug won't do anyone any favors.


	8. Friends Apart

AN: I apologize for how long it's been since my last update. I really want to have a better rate than one chapter in two months, but for some reason this chapter gave me an inordinate amount of trouble.

* * *

 _The fourth child, the purple soul… you told me he did not stop even for food or a nap, but barged straight through your house and to the exit without even introducing himself. Seeking Mr. Eaton's name would have been impossible if not for the documentary the humans made. Oh right! First, his name was Tyrone Eaton, though according to interviews with his social workers he preferred to be called "Ty". He and his younger brother and sister were taken away from their parents because… well, it says their parents were neglectful and couldn't take care of them, but that begs the question of what the neighbors were doing. Shouldn't the rest of the community have stepped up to help if one set of parents was too overworked or tired to raise the kids? I mean that's common sense! Anyway, Ty was really insistent that he at least be kept together with his siblings. But finding foster homes that could take three kids at once… it was actually pretty difficult, and though the state insisted it was temporary the children lost touch with each other. His workers were trying to get him enrolled in a school for gifted youth, but… the documentary said 'of course a black kid from a bad home would be unwelcome', but that doesn't explain anything? I feel like I'm missing some context, or subtext, or maybe both. Just as the hopes of a good school fell through Ty heard his younger brother had been in a car accident and would likely die that night. Ty raced out the door; the manager of the group home thought to go to the hospital, but nobody ever saw him again. After all that I feel like I have few answers and even more questions than I had before…_

* * *

"Well, here we are again. The surface."

It was nearly sundown. Susan wrapped her arms around herself, the mountain chill combining with the coldness in her gut to freeze her inside and out. She and Undyne stood in the mouth of the cave, looking out over the countryside. In the distance the buildings of downtown Weymouth beckoned to her, but now it was the curl of a skeletal finger and not the promise of a warm embrace.

Undyne spoke up again, "You don't have to drive me back, if you don't wanna. There's plenty to do here to keep me busy until someone else can come get me."

Susan shook her head. "No, it's… it's okay. I know you're not going to hurt me. And it wouldn't be right to make you go back down there when you've been looking forward to the surface for so long." Honestly, a part of her did not want to return with Undyne. Intellectually she knew she had nothing to fear from the fish-woman. But the voice in her head pounded a refrain, 'This woman tried to kill a child, this woman tried to _kill_ a _child_ …'

"hey undyne, i found the human."

Susan recoiled from the new voice, putting a hand to her chest to catch her breath. A skeleton in a winter coat looked up at her from Undyne's side, a giant grin on his face. Like Papyrus he did not actually look much like a skeleton at all but in a completely different way from Papyrus. Where had he come from? She had not heard him walk up at all!

Undyne crossed her arms and growled, "Sans, make some noise when you walk or something! We've had a long day and-"

"you're welcome, don't mention it." He winked to let them both know he was not entirely serious. It was also a reminder that no matter what they may look like Papyrus and Sans were not made of bone.

Undyne rolled her eyes and said, "If you came all this way you might as well say hi. This is Susan. She's a human who… well, she just found out about the other humans. Try and go easy on her." Susan felt a nail in her heart get hammered in further. All the monsters knew. It was not intended to be a secret at all.

The skeleton nodded and waved. "heya. i'm sans, sans the skeleton. you met my brother papyrus yet?"

"He's your brother?" She looked down at him, a motion she was not used to. It was rare for Susan to find someone shorter than she was. He was wearing a winter parka that he filled out considerably (how?!) and bike shorts with pink fuzzy slippers. His skull appeared to be fused into one solid piece, his lips moving almost imperceptively as he spoke. She conjured up a mental image of the tall skeleton in strange clothing. "There's… not a lot of family resemblance, is there?"

"rude." Sans held out his hand for a shake. "but if you're cool with him then you're cool with me. let's celebrate becoming new friends together."

Well, what the hey, Susan thought. He could not possibly be a threat. Compared to the rest of the monsters Sans was downright disarming. She reached out for his hand without consciously meaning to, as though she were possessed. Undyne tried to intervene, "Sans, don't you-"

The warning came too late. As soon as Susan clasped his hand a farting sound echoed down the entire mountainside. Undyne hid her face behind her hand while the grin on Sans' face got impossibly wide. Susan's mind became hazy and she could not form coherent thoughts; her brain had finally thrown up its hands, declared it would _not_ work under these conditions, and was going to its trailer. "whatzamatter?" Sans asked. "you look like you've never seen the whoopie cushion in the hand trick before."

"Dammit, Sans!" Undyne loomed over him. "Do you have to do that to everyone?"

"of course. it's always funny." Susan tried to laugh, she really did, but all that came out was a dry and unenthusiastic "heh".

Undyne's visible eye blazed for a moment before she realized how pointless this argument would be. "Just… shut up and follow us. She can take us to where everyone's staying."

The skeleton rubbed his chin for a moment. Susan imagined the sound of bone scraping against bone would be grating and high-pitched, but the sound Sans made was more like two marbles rubbing together. Now that she thought about it his phalanges had felt unnaturally smooth in her hand. "tempting, but nah. given the choice i'd rather take it easy down there than up here, you can come pick me up when you're all set."

"If you're staying behind to try and get out of work you're out of luck. Call the Snowdin K-9 unit. Tell them they need to investigate the king's cellar, pronto."

"you really think they'll come? the guard's disbanded."

The former Captain did not budge. "Make them come. It's that important. The bodies are missing and we have to find the culprit as soon as we can."

Sans showed no reaction, as if he expected this. "the bodies? you mean the ones the previous humans left behind? i think the king wanted to bring the remains back to the humans. but now they're gone… huh. you think someone stole 'em?"

"Well they didn't walk out of the cave on their own!"

"fair point, fair point." His smile eased for the first time since Susan saw him. "no rest for the weary, huh? alright, i'll get their noses on it and see what we can find out." He nodded towards Susan once before telling her, "take care of paps for me, yeah? he's a cool guy and he takes his job seriously." Oh god, Papyrus. Did he have anything to do with this? Did he know? She found it hard to imagine someone like him being complicit… but she had thought that about all of them just a few hours ago. As if he could read her life story written in worry lines across her face Sans finished, "whatever you're thinking of he had nothing to do with. he's the best of us. he tried to capture the kid, sure, but it was all in good fun. they even went on a date afterward."

She blinked. "A… a date? When they're so young?"

"don't worry, paps let 'em down easy. anyway, i shouldn't keep the boss waiting. maybe in a couple days i'll come up and join you all for real. nice meetin' ya, susan." He waved over his shoulder as he shuffled back into the Underground, his slippers making schuff-schuff noises against the rocky path.

"So," Undyne coughed. "Uh, I was gonna ask to race you on the way back, but now that seems kinda-"

"Yeah," Susan agreed, clutching her elbows. "Yeah, I get you. Let's just… go back."

That was the last word either of them said to each other on the way back down the mountain, or on the whole car ride back to Silas'.

* * *

"That… seems to be everything," Ms. Ashland said, frowning at the checklist. She tapped her pen against the clipboard, apparently hoping to find some other item she could use to deny Silas custody. She sighed and marked her signature at the bottom of her clipboard. "I'll submit this up the ladder. Ordinarily it would take a few weeks to get your foster care license, but with whatever strings you pulled behind the scenes I wouldn't be surprised if they make the post office work on a Sunday just to get it to you tomorrow."

He had to be careful. From the moment this woman entered his home he had felt like he was stepping into the batter's box with two strikes already against him. Asking the wrong question or the right one in the wrong way could upend the entire process. "I am not accusing you of bias, you understand. But I can't help but feel attacked. Is there something you find objectionable about my home or my person?"

"I object to this process," she said icily. "Nothing about this is normal. You should have to attend the Core Training and get your home inspection done before the child is placed, not after. What should take weeks is being done in hours. You're getting the government to work on a Saturday! I've never seen anything like this and I hope you don't mind me saying it makes me suspicious." She sighed, her shoulders lowering to below her ears. "And honestly, it seems too good to be true. We've had trouble finding places for Frisk, and them running away from their last foster parents might have ended any hopes of an adoption. Instead here comes a man we've never heard of who's willing to bend heaven and earth to keep them safe. You know what they say about 'too good to be true'."

Fascinating. "I had not considered that. I am glad you take your job so seriously."

She glanced down at Frisk for a brief moment before looking straight into Silas' eyes. Her face hardened with resolution and her eyes blazed. "I'm doing the best I can to look after Frisk with my limited powers. Of course I want them to find a home, but more important than that I want a good home. I certainly don't want to go through all this craziness only to see you abandon them in a month."

Frisk's hands clenched into fists; Silas lacked the context to understand exactly what she said that upset them or why. Instead he returned his attention to Ms. Ashland. "That won't be happening. I intend to foster Frisk until a permanent family is found to care for them."

"Normally we like to rotate children around several foster families to keep them from getting too attached to what is intended to be a temporary condition. In the circumstances…" She let slip the barest hint of a smile and concluded, "We'll see what happens. We'll meet again in three weeks to see how they're adjusting. Here's my card, contact me if anything comes up. And Frisk?" She looked over at the child. "Don't give up on us, okay? I promise I'll do better from now on." Frisk did not respond. They sat on one of the dining room chairs, head down and hands wringing themselves in their lap. They kept their legs together as they kicked back and forth, rocking slightly in the chair. She spoke to Silas again, "When they're ready I would like to know where they've been the last few days. I think we all would." Ah, but would you be ready for that story? "But for now have a good evening Mr. Pembrooke."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries as Silas guided her out. Surreptitiously he sent a text to Marty to bring back the other monsters. He did not like keeping Toriel and Asgore together for extended periods of time. So far it had not been a problem but that was no reason to push his luck. He shoved Ms. Ashland out the door and wiped his brow. "That went as well as could be expected," he said. "I've already called your friends back, they should be here in a few minutes."

Frisk could not even bring themself to look at him. They kept their head down, staring at their knees or maybe a point on the floor. "O-oh," they said, rubbing the knuckles of one hand with the other. "Okay."

He continued, "You should probably get to bed early tonight. You have been through quite an ordeal and you've missed a few days of school. We're in a different district than your previous school so it'll mean a transfer. Well, it's still early in the year so there's plenty of time to catch up. I'm sure you'll make plenty of new friends." He left a bit of silence open for Frisk to voice their opinion, but they only nodded with a tiny hum. They lifted their head slightly, but noticed Silas staring at them and ducked back down as color entered their cheeks. He was starting to think Frisk didn't like him. Maybe he should not have come on so strong. The kid probably thought he was trying to take them away from Toriel. Which he had not ruled out doing, but he needed more information before doing anything so drastic. He needed to confirm she was dangerous before he moved. But if Frisk said nothing was wrong, what else could he do?

He heard the garage door open. That was fast. Could Marty have been waiting just around the block waiting for the social worker to leave? He received his answer as the door flung open to reveal two women, a blue-scaled fish and a tiny Asian human. The corners of their mouths were turned down and their faces averted from each others. Undyne stepped past Silas to offer Frisk a "Hey kid, ya miss me?" Susan's lower lip trembled and the tension in her neck visibly decreased when Undyne left her side.

"Susan, you're back! The underground must not be as big as it sounded if you already explored…" He let himself trail off as he caught her morose expression, the one Undyne shared. Oh. _Oh._ "… You found out. About the children."

Susan nodded, slowly at first but ramping up in speed. She half-dived, half-fell into Silas and wrapped her arms around his ribs, squeezing uncomfortably. She choked on her sobs and she pushed her face into his shoulder to wipe her eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, instead putting one arm around her shoulder and patting her back. There there. There there. He could not tell how long they were like that. At some point Undyne must have taken Frisk upstairs to give them some privacy because neither of them were there the next time he checked with his peripheral vision. He let Susan cry and shudder and all the things she had been holding in for who knew how long. Poor Susan. He had warned her, too, but in the end he could not blame her.

"What are we gonna do?" she whined into the crook of his neck.

"Don't worry, I have a plan. It'll all work out. I won't let something like this stop the monsters from living here peacefully."

She stiffened in his arms and stepped back, pushing air through pursed lips in a wheeze like a leaky balloon. "You… I wasn't talking about the monsters. Don't you care about the kids?"

He should have watched his mouth. Careless."Of course I care. But there's nothing I or anyone can do for the six children who died. I can try and contact their families after the monsters are introduced. Doing anything before then could risk exposure before we're ready." _We_ , he repeated internally. Well, why not? He was already in this deep, he had already done this much, why not count himself among them? "Besides, I already promised I would help the monsters so they're going to be my priority."

Susan crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. "Bullshit. We both know how you feel about promises."

 _This_ , he did not need right now. "Susan, go home. Get some sleep."

"Are you…" She bit her lower lip and drew in a shaky breath, brow furrowed. "Do you seriously think I just need a nap and everything will be fine?"

"I don't care whether it will fix anything. I'm not going to get yelled at in my own home and I'm not letting you say something you'll regret later." And just in time light splayed across the wall from headlights through the window as a large truck turned onto his driveway; Marty had returned.

She pointed a finger at him and shouted, "If you think you're running away from me-!"

"Call it whatever you like, I am not rehashing an argument from eight years ago." He swung open the door and called out into the garage, "Marty, don't turn off the truck!" He left the door open and moved aside to let the monsters through. "Have him drive you home. You don't have to come back if you decide you don't want to." Asgore came in first, followed by Alphys, Papyrus, then finally Toriel, each one coming into the house quickly but slowing down to rubberneck. They all carefully crept past the two humans attempting to stare each other down, unwilling to interfere but unable to look away.

Susan shook her head, her jaw set. "And that's… it. After everything, that's all it takes for you to cut me loose."

"I'm not cutting anyone loose, we'll talk again when we've both calmed down." He forced himself to take a breath. "It was good seeing you again, Shuchun. Thank you for this weekend. I had my doubts about a camping trip but it certainly was… something."

All the anger left her face. Her expression fell like a balloon deflating. She looked empty and her words came out as hollow wheezes. "I… huh. You're, um… yeah. I-I guess I'll see you. Later, Sai." She stepped past him and into the garage, slamming the door behind her. Within a moment the sound of the engine got quieter and quieter as it backed down the driveway and back into the dusk.

The whole time the monsters shuffled nervously and looked absolutely everywhere but at the door or Silas, intuiting that somehow they were the cause of what they had witnessed. Only after the sound of the engine faded entirely was Papyrus brave enough to venture, "Er, Silas? Is there something the matter between you and your friend Susan?"

"Nothing I'm willing to discuss," he snapped. Papyrus recoiled and he immediately cursed himself. It was getting to him, everything was, and he could never let a client see him sweat. He was supposed to be the defendant's support, their sole lifeline. If he got overwhelmed what were they supposed to do? "Thank you for your concern, but right now there are more pressing matters than my personal life. I'd like to continue our talk from this morning in light of-" His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket with a exasperated snarl and an eyeroll. Now what? He held up one finger when he saw the phone number: his father's office number. After the favor he did getting that audience with the governor on such short notice he could not afford to blow him off. "Pembrooke speaking," Silas accepted the incoming call, stepping into the kitchen and lowering his voice for some semblance of privacy.

A female voice on the other end of the line spoke in a professional staccato, over-enunciating every syllable. "Mr. Pembrooke, I'm calling on behalf of Reginald Pembrooke, to confirm your appointment with him at his home at five-thirty tomorrow evening. Will you need directions?"

Was that her idea of a joke? If so it was delivered bone dry. "No, I know the way to my own father's house, thank you for confirming."

"Oh, and also I need to deliver a request from him. It says… hm. I have a handwritten note that he wants you to 'bring the big one with the crown'. It says you'll know what it means." There was a hint of a question in her tone, asking without words to be let in on the big secret.

Big one with the crown… the photo he sent. Asgore? His father wanted to meet Asgore? What was this about? "I don't suppose this is negotiable."

"Nothing ever is with Reginald Pembrooke."

A wince distorted his face. He was afraid of that. "I'll see what I can do. Thank you." He hung up and returned to a much more somber group than he left. Undyne had rejoined the group, though there were not a lot of smiles to go around at what should have been a happy reunion. She stood in a soldierly position, back straight and shoulders hiked. Asgore looked back at her with an ashen expression, while Toriel's teeth were bared in constrained fury. "What did I miss?" Silas asked.

Asgore spoke in a tone a pallbearer might use, "The children are missing." He licked his nose; it seemed a lot less funny now than it did around the campfire. "The bodies of the six children who fell between Chara and Frisk are gone."

Silas couldn't help it. He slapped himself in the forehead and sighed deeply. "That's… great. Just great. Do you have any suspects?"

Undyne winced. "Not yet. I've got people looking into it: the K-9 unit will be able to track anyone who's visited the room for months, should be a short list."

"You lost them," Toriel shook her head in disgust. "The one thing you could have done to honor their memory and you… how did that even happen?"

Undyne tried to soften the blow, "The only security measure in place was obscurity. There were only a few people who knew where the coffins were and nobody had much reason to go down there and look. Even if someone found them by accident, why mess with 'em? Oh, uh, babe? Can you figure out a way for us to talk to the people back underground from here? My cellphone ain't working but I don't want to have to go all the way back for status updates."

Alphys pulled out her own phone and pressed a few buttons. She tapped the screen with a claw rhythmically, "Hmmm… I see, the surface cellular network must use a different architecture than we use underground. I expected that but it's still an issue if we can't piggyback off their network. Probably can't rewrite the whole code in the next few days. I can set up a communication node near the cave entrance as a stopgap measure while we standardize-" She realized everyone was staring at her and she began vibrating. "Uh-uh-uh-uh, sorry I was… thinking out loud! Heh heh… heh…"

"Good idea, even without this we'll want to keep in touch with whoever you have temporarily running things down there." He yawned into his hand. His eyelids drooped dangerously and it was taking physical effort to keep his jaw closed. "But we can… handle that tomorrow. I think… we should turn in early and get some rest. This has been a very eventful day for all of us. There should be enough space for everyone if we don't mind getting cozy. The recliner, the couch… spots on the floor if need be. Can someone help me get the spare sheets and blankets out? Oh, and Frisk will need to be put to bed as well…"

* * *

Weymouth was not large enough to be active 24 hours a day but still large enough to have a nightlife on the weekends. The workers at the flower fields were eager to blow off steam and get roaring drunk in the lousiest dives they could find, while the nightclubs and mid-scale bars welcomed the returning college students with open arms. In September especially the barhoppers of various social classes cut a line through the city where the foot traffic was so thick cars could hardly move through it without hitting someone. This was why even though Susan's mother lived only ten minutes from Silas' condo as the crow flew, it would take Marty nearly half an hour to get her home. Susan knew all that. Still she cursed the long, circuitous path he was taking, curving around the danger zone instead of trying to plow through it. She wanted to be home already. She lounged in her seat, oversized for her petite body and overcushioned so instead of being comfortable she felt like there was no support.

Marty waited until he was at a stoplight before asking, "Do you hate them? The monsters?"

"What? No! I-I don't…" She sighed and slammed her head against the seat just under the headrest. "I don't _want_ to. It's… it wasn't supposed to be like this. They're friendly and nice and so so sweet. And it's not fair what happened to them. They didn't deserve to be locked underground. But then they tell me six kids died down there and they either did nothing or actively helped kill them and… how am I supposed to feel about that? Wasn't what happened to those kids unfair, too? Does thinking the monsters are cool mean ignoring the lives of those kids and saying their deaths don't matter? But then I think, should the monsters have stayed underground, then? There's thousands of monsters, most of them probably had nothing to do with the kids dying. Is it right to condemn all of them because of something only a couple of them did?" She growled and pulled on a handful of her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense."

Marty nodded, tapping against the steering wheel. "No, I hear ya. Have to admit I'm not too crazy about it all myself. But I figure it will all work out. My feelings, the kids, the monsters, all of it. So why worry?"

"And it's just that simple for you."

"Guess so."

"C'mon, don't hold out on me. What are you really thinking?"

Marty said nothing for a long while, his attention focused on the empty road. Just when it seemed he would ignore the question entirely he said, "The summer of our junior year was a rough time for me. I didn't care about anything, I was so caught up in my own problems I didn't realize what path I was on. I don't blame you for not noticing, I had a lot of practice hiding by that point. I almost did something… really, really stupid. Alicia stopped me, though she probably didn't realize what she did. Silas probably doesn't remember it at all. But it… really stuck with me. I thought, 'this is someone who really has their shit together'. I owe her my life. So I decided, if she's ever in trouble or if she ever needs help, I'll do whatever I can. Even if I don't know what he's going through or have my doubts, I'll never abandon him. And I still feel that way."

"I hate to ruin your introspection, but you changed his pronouns like, three times."

"Oh come on!" he protested, his smile returning albeit weakly. "If I'm talking about him when he was going by 'Alicia', shouldn't I call him… her… then, now?" He scratched at his head one-handed as his train of thought derailed. "Aaaagh, this is so confusing!" Marty drove on in silence for just long enough to indicate a change of topics before asking, "By the way, where'd Chad go? He totally ghosted on us, did he mail you about it or anything?"

"Nope." Susan rested her cheek against the window, the outside chill cooling off her face. Her breath fogged up the window. "I wonder what he's up to now."

"If he has any sense at all he's asleep. Which means he's probably pacing around his studio working himself into a lather over something or another. I swear, Silas has got one mean stick up his ass but Chad's the one who's going to give himself a heart attack one of these days."

* * *

Chad laid on a mattress dumped on the ground, no boxspring and no frame. The rest of his studio was similarly spartan; other than the bed and a television there was no other furniture. He had not even bought any rugs to cover the hardwood floors. His clean clothes were neatly folded and stacked in a laundry basket while dirty clothes piled up in the far corner. A laptop rested on his abs with several tabs open of major local, national, and international news sites. So far there was no hint of what had happened near Mt. Ebott the previous night. The world had changed and nobody else knew it. His eyes traced the series of circles and curves in the plaster as if following the loops would lead him to someplace new. It was an apt metaphor for his brain; start in the same place, follow the same arguments, reach the same conclusion.

The starting location: the monsters. They came with open hands and smiling faces but that was no guarantee of anything. If negotiations went poorly or they sensed weakness they could pounce. It was said diplomacy was the fine art of saying "nice doggy" until you could find a rock. It was possible the monsters were biding their time until they could discover the strengths and weaknesses of humanity. If Silas was the one keeping the rabid dog at bay he had to do his part and start looking for rocks. Not that he was hoping for violence but… just in case.

First consideration, the numbers involved. It was unknown how densely populated the underground was, but unless the monsters were packed in like Kowloon it was likely the humans of Weymouth outnumbered them. That numerical advantage disappeared quickly once you realized every monster possessed magic and was therefore a threat. By contrast probably only two thirds of humans were at an age and level of physical fitness capable of fighting, less than half of them owned weapons, and less than half of _them_ were trained in their use. The rest of the county was more sparsely populated but the incidence of gun ownership was higher. So there were maybe half again as many potential militia members as in Weymouth proper.

Next, troop quality. From Toriel's description of magic fields it could be used at pistol range at the most. Rifles would be the order of the day. With both range and home-field advantage the fighting could be contained to Weymouth and its environs. Governor Patrick might call for the National Guard but the locals and the militia could probably push them back to Mt. Ebbot before they arrived. Or maybe they couldn't, but if it got to the point where the monsters were able to fight off local police and militias and establish outposts you stopped thinking about calling the National Guard and started considering summoning the army. The monsters might, _might_ , put up a fight against civilians armed with hunting rifles and shotguns, but against trained soldiers, tanks, drones, and who knew what else? No way. No matter what kind of magic they had a sniper bullet would collapse their skulls all the same. Chad should be able to relax, because even in the absolute worst-case scenario monsters were doomed and humanity would be saved.

But the monsters could probably take out at least a few humans before being defeated. If it came down to a conflict Silas and Marty were doomed. Marty would not have the presence of mind to even consider the possibility of an attack and Silas would willfully blind himself to it until it was too late. Susan… she would die too. Even while standing in the middle of a pride of lions as they ate the faces of tourists she would never imagine she herself would get mauled. That kind of naivete was one of her more charming qualities, but it also made her a liability. So, those three probably could not be saved. Their position was too dangerous. Best to write them off now. That would be best, but he could not in his heart abandon them to their fate. Even Silas, the self-important fop, did not deserve to die. The only way to save them would be to get them to safety now, before the monsters became dangerous. But Silas was likely to have a hundred arguments on giving peace a chance. He was a lawyer, how was Chad supposed to compete with that? He had to find some argument, though. Maybe if he tried to imagine what a war between humans and monsters might look like he could explain the danger to them. And that was his conclusion ending up at his starting point, looping back around itself like a snake eating its tail.

It was not as though he wanted a fight. He wanted to believe. In his heart he dearly, desperately wanted everything to work out. He merely had no faith that it would. That was the difference between him and an ideologue like Silas, or a romantic like Susan, or an appeaser like Marty. They assumed nothing would ever go wrong, and so they ran roughshod over him when he tried to voice his very reasonable concerns. It was not as though he was angry, no. They had not realized it yet but they needed him. The work he was doing now was just as important as whatever skulduggery Silas was involved with concerning the governor. He needed to keep plugging away at it, because the time would soon come when his friends would need him. He had to be ready. But to do that he needed them to meet him halfway.

He looked over to the side where his alarm clock flared thirty minutes to midnight in a bright red digital glow. Disgusted, he moved his laptop to the floor and slammed his face into the pillow like he intended to perform violence on it. This day had been long enough, so tomorrow. He would continue tomorrow.

* * *

Chara waited.

Below them Frisk laid out on their bed in their sleep clothes, mouth open and drooling on the pillow. Below that on the lower floor the monsters were continuing their discussions on the press conference they would have to have to introduce themselves. What venue to use, who would speak and in what order, enunciation and word choice to have the desired effects, all things Frisk would call "grown-up stuff" and Chara euphemized as "boring". The waiting was agonizing, the urge to move or speak or do _something_ reaching a fever pitch, but they willed themselves still. Patience may have been their worst trait, but it was not as though they could not be patient. It meant only that being patient did not come naturally to them. That was how Asgore explained it to them when informed of Chara's virtue readings. They tried unsuccessfully to forget how Asgore finished that thought: "the way loving does."

Frisk's breathing had slowed to the point where Chara was sure they were asleep. They pushed depressing thoughts from their mind, it was time to go to work. They were unable to test this the previous night because others were with them, but now that Frisk had their own room Chara could experiment on something strange that happened after Frisk passed out from exhaustion in the Judgment Hall. They licked their lips then enunciated calmly and clearly, "Rubber baby buggy bumpers."

Frisk slurred, "Rubber, baby, buggy, bumpers."

So it had not been a once-off thing. They could control Frisk in their sleep! A thousand and one plans rolled through their head. They could read books! Surf the internet!… Actually that was about it. If anyone ran into them they might wake Frisk up and ruin their fun. Even if Chara was able to successfully act as Frisk, it would be trouble if Frisk didn't remember the conversation. Putting Frisk in danger by somnambulating out of the house was a very definite no-no. But still! Seeing a world they could never touch was quickly growing tiresome. At least they could continue their education if this panned out. Chara gathered their concentration for the next experiment. "Sesquipedalion."

Frisk repeated gamely, "Siskapurrion."

So they could not make Frisk say anything they could not normally pronounce. Which made sense, it was not as if they were possessing Frisk. It was more like pushing buttons. No matter how clever you were with the television remote a VCR was not going to make coffee for you. Okay, next up; was it limited to just their voice, or could they make Frisk's body move around? They thought a mental command at Frisk, but Frisk remained still. They thought harder: no effect. After a full minute they had to admit it was not working. They were reminded of when they tried to learn magic; it was the only time they had trouble learning something. Toriel and Asgore and Asriel could use magic so easily, but all their lessons never did a thing for them. Even the most rudimentary technique, expanding the magic field, was completely beyond them. Then as now they wondered what muscle they were even supposed to be flexing. Actually, hm. When making Frisk speak Chara could only make them repeat what they said. Maybe the same principle applied to movement? Chara went sideways in the air, trying to match Frisk's pose exactly. Once they were reasonably close, they clenched and unclenched their fingers and barely kept themself from squealing in delight when Frisk's fingers moved in time with theirs. Next they tried to move their arm flat against their side; Frisk's arm flopped in the same vague direction but without any of Chara's grace or aesthetic. They tried to move the same arm, this time to make it grab the corner of the pillow. Again Frisk's arm jerked wildly, landing almost six inches from where Chara was aiming. Was the problem Chara's inexperience? Or were they unable to enact perfect control of a sleepy Frisk? Maybe they could try again when Frisk was more awake. They immediately dismissed the idea; making Frisk talk in their sleep was one thing, body-jacking them was something else entirely. They absolutely could not do that even if it was possible.

Well, it was a neat gimmick but entirely useless. Finding out they were unlikely to get relief from this condition in the near future was totally not worth staying up this late for. Oh well. Chara closed their eyes and allowed themself to fade from existence. The next moment they experienced would be Frisk waking them up in the morning…

* * *

AN: In the comments of this chapter on AO3 reader FriskHeart has the following advice:

"BTW, friendly PSA for people who (like Marty) know trans people and don't know how to refer to them in stories before they came out! Simply put, if it isn't relevant to the story, just use the same name and pronouns they're using. There's no need to deadname or misgender them unnecessarily. If it is relevant, (which it wasn't in this case btw,) just say "Before they came out" or "Before they started transitioning" and carry one with the same name and pronouns that they use now. :)"

Thanks FriskHeart!


	9. Human Families

_The fifth child's name was Skye Harris. He was a local and a little bit of a neighborhood terror (not entirely unlike Frisk, but I'm getting ahead of myself). He would accept any challenge, take on any opponent, and never back down from a dare. That… was the problem. Children on the surface understood Mt. Ebott was dangerous. They said anyone who climbed the mountain never returned. The weird thing was, hikers and outdoorsy folk would climb it all the time and they were fine. In fact, I might be reading between the lines here? But it seems like they never found the caves at all. Neither the one Frisk fell into above the ruins, nor the entrance to the barrier room at New Home. Isn't that so strange? Anyway! A couple kids dared Skye to go climb the mountain, and of course he took off that night. When he didn't come back after three days the kids tearfully confessed everything, and that's how all the local adults came to know of this mountain and its legend. They tried hard to keep the secret from getting out; this was right around the time the town was experiencing huge growth due to the commercialization of golden flowers, and they did not want to risk the city becoming known for disappearing kids rather than its "magical" tea. And they succeeded for almost fifteen more years._

 _There is one thing I have to tell you about Skye in the underground: he didn't have a good reputation. There's lots of stories about the orange soul child beating up monsters and leaving them nearly dead. He never killed anyone, but depending on who you asked it wasn't for lack of trying. I'm not accusing you of anything, but what kind of person was he when he lived with you? Anything that might have explained why he was like that?_

* * *

Toriel felt a migraine headache coming on.

Asgore had no idea what kind of surface he would be bringing the monsters to. All his information about the surface was second or third-hand, and his skills as a politician were unimpressive. He had only remained king for a thousand years because no one seriously challenged his rule. She could have stolen the throne from him in the wake of her child's death, she really could have, but she had no interest in being the ruler of a people who would cheer for the blood of children. And yet that was exactly the position she now found herself in, acting as co-leader in Asgore and Silas' bid to downplay the crimes of their nation. And the worst part was she was letting it happen because, as usual, she was so focused on immediate problems that she could not think long term. This time, though, she could not help it. She had barely gotten one page into Alphys' preliminary report and already it sent her reeling. Chara, her first human child, did not exist according to Alphys' research. No report of a missing child. No mourning. They simply fell into the underground and every trace of them ever living on the surface was wiped out.

Toriel remembered once when they were alone with Chara, not long after they fell. Chara threw a rubber ball at the floor so it would bounce up, hit the wall, and return to them on the rebound. The ball made a sharp twang as it hit the floor and a softer bop when it hit the wall. Chara caught it with a thwip and threw it back down a little harder, causing the ball to travel faster and hit louder. Over and over, over and over. "Are you practicing for something?" she asked. Chara did not reply verbally, just shrugged and continued their game. Twang-bop-thwip, twang-bop-thwip. She tried again, "We've posted a Loox family close to where Asriel found you. We'll be informed if anyone comes looking for you."

Chara stiffened but continued their play. "No one will come here."

"Yes, I suppose it is unlikely anyone else will find this place after-"

" _No._ " Their rhythm was interrupted as they kept hold of the ball, still not looking at Toriel. "No one will come because they won't look." They threw the ball with what was clearly intended to be a petulant slam, but the ball rebounded off the floor and wall and came rocketing back at their face, knocking into their nose with enough force to knock Chara off their feet. She was there in a flash, ready with a light admonishment and a healing hand. She had not wondered until some time later whether the last throw was really an accident caused by their anger or a move calculated to prevent any follow-up questions on what they had just said.

She had forgotten that incident for a very long time, but reading Alphys' research brought it back. How could this be? What kind of family would allow them to disappear as though they never existed. The other children, yes, their families deserved some sort of closure. But Chara's? She had seen how they curled in on themself. She saw them slowly, tentatively crawl out of their shell. From whence did that shell come from? From "parents" Chara could not bring themself to call anything other than Those People! How she hated them, hated them with a fury that would have turned her into a withered hag in seconds if she were not a Boss Monster and immune to aging from negative emotions as the rest of monsterkind did. The other families needed to know what had happened to their children. Those People needed to understand what they had done to their child.

"All set!" Asgore held out his arms to display his attire, ceremonial armor polished and cape meticulously cleaned. "How do I look?"

Before Toriel realized what she was doing she had settled into the old routine, straightening tiny wrinkles in the cape and inspecting for smudges on the plate mail. There was a time when she would have been wearing her own set of ceremonial armor, and the two of them would nit and peck at each other's appearances until they were both perfect. But that was a long time ago. She would never wear that armor again. She would never be queen again, not if it meant ruling alongside Asgore. He would not be king for much longer either; he would give it up to become another ordinary citizen of these United States. So she could take Frisk as her own child to replace the one she lost. No, no, she berated herself, Frisk was not a replacement. However tempting and understandable the sin, she must never allow herself to try and see Asriel in Frisk. Or to see Chara in them, for that matter.

"That should about do it," she said. "Although, you may be overdressed."

"Silas tells me his dad likes it when people use formal wear for business. Also that he never knew him to invite strangers over for fun."

As if being summoned by calling his name Silas descended the staircase at that moment, already dressed in a dark green suit and black tie. He looked a bit flushed and uncomfortable, his hand gripping the banister with an iron grip. "His house is not far, but it would be best not to keep my father waiting." Poor dear, he was dropping his contractions again. "I ask all of you not to leave the house. Tomorrow we will discuss making your debut to the world, but for now you cannot be out in public."

"We understand," Toriel said patiently. "You have made yourself quite clear. Although it is cramped in this house, we will trust in your judgment."

"Good." Silas nodded, exhaling. "Okay. We will… we'll, be back by nightfall."

A moment later they were gone, starting up the strange vehicle and out the garage door. Toriel had missed out on a lot of technological innovation while she was in the Ruins; she could hardly recognize most of Hotland on her way to rescue Frisk. But the surface world was an order of magnitude greater even than that, with vehicles and street lights and television and computers. She noticed with dismay that the other monsters took it all in stride, with only her left wide-eyed and gasping at the marvels on display. Was she really that much of a dinosaur?

She was halfway through cooking a stir-fry for lunch when Undyne came up to her. "Hey, uh, Toriel. Do you need a hand with that?"

"Actually, Undyne, I was hoping to have a word with you on that subject. I have spoken with others of your cooking… talents." She eyed the fish-woman dangerously. "I am supremely unamused."

Undyne's smile faded a little bit. This was clearly not how she expected this conversation to go. "Uh… I thought I could, you know, take some of the burden off ya. I don't-"

"Silence." Toriel stood with all the force and authority a Queen could muster. "If you wish to be allowed in a kitchen ever again you will submit to my lessons. But I am not a cruel mistress. I will not make you learn from the beginning. In fact, I believe the best strategy would be to find a dish and style which meshes with your existing knowledge and branch out from there."

Undyne raised her eyebrow. "And, what does that mean?"

Toriel pulled up her sleeves, then picked up the wok already on the stovetop in one hand. "It means, beginning tonight, I will introduce you to the wonderful world…" She gestured with her free hand and the wok exploded into a roaring fire. The flames reached nearly to the ceiling and bathed the kitchen in orange light. Toriel closed her fist and the flames dissipated. Her smirk at Undyne's open-mouthed gape revealed a single canine. "… of flambé."

* * *

Silas adjusted the rear-view mirror so he was looking at himself. In his younger days he detested his nose. It was long and aristocratic in a way that clashed with the rest of his features. What should have been a lovely portrait of high cheekbones and well-defined angles was marred by an inescapable protuberance. Now he was thankful for it; it distracted from how his face was too small and too soft for a man of twenty six years, his chin too smooth to have ever needed a razor. He would not have dared wear a binder or a suit, or legally changed his name to "Silas", without the nose. Even then, on some days (like today) no matter how carefully he styled his hair or altered his posture, he had trouble seeing a man and not a butch lesbian looking back at him from the other side of the mirror. On this day of all days his dysphoria decided to act up. He had not seen his father in person for several years, not since he came out, and he had not planned on ever seeing him again. He knew his father accepted him, Silas would not be living in that condo if he didn't, but today he would find out how grudging that acceptance was. He would rather have not ever found out.

His father lived in the hills, away from the crowds and bustle of the city. He had bought the land and built the house decades ago when Weymouth was still a town, before golden flower tea gave it a unique industry and turned it into a city. The investment paid off well for him, and the house was now worth four times what it was then. Despite this it seemed rather humble from the exterior other than its size, with vinyl siding over a cement foundation which poked up slightly above the ground. The windows were framed with white (non-functional) shutters, and elegant curtains served in the place of shades. Silas and Asgore walked up the stone steps leading to the front door and rang the bell. Silas expected a maid or manservant to open the door and bring him to the sitting room. He had to have them, even if he was retired he would not be able to maintain this house by himself. He did not expect his father, in person, to be the one to answer the door.

Reginald Sr. bore the same sharp beak-like nose as his sons. He was of course impeccably dressed; even if he did not leave the house he still put on a suit if he was looking or even thinking about business. That alone told Silas he was not seeing this as a social call. His face was gaunt and his hair, once blond, had almost entirely grayed into a distinguished white-gold. He regarded his child carefully, lips pursing a brief moment before speaking. "Silas."

Silas released a breath he had not realized he was holding. "Father." He gestured to his side and said, "This is King Asgore Dreemurr, of the monsters under Mt. Ebott. Asgore, this is my father, Reginald Pembrooke."

Asgore bowed his head very slightly so his crown would remain on top of his head. "Your son has been a wonderful gift to us."

"Is that so? Then I give that gift gladly." He smiled cordially but Silas held his breath again. Reginald and Asgore shook each other's hands, Reginald's hand being enveloped entirely by the king's massive paw. Asgore was careful with his strength and Reginald returned the handshake firmly. He then turned to his son. "I haven't seen you since you went off to college. I was beginning to believe I had slighted you in some way."

"I admit I was unsure what kind of homecoming I would receive. I apologize for not contacting you earlier, I-"

"Yes, yes," Reginald waved off like he had heard the story dozens of times before. "You have been absorbed in your work and could not spare the time to think of your family. After this long I could hardly expect you to change."

There were two ways that could be taken and Silas was unsure which he meant. That was twice in a minute. But surely he was being oversensitive. He had to have been reading too much into it. Right? "I beg your pardon?"

Reginald ignored him and looked over and up to his guest. "You are even larger in person, your highness. If you weren't trying to bunch yourself up I would be intimidated."

Asgore gave him an embarrassed grin. "The world of humans is ill-sized for me. But you do not need to speak formally; I am King of the Monsters for only a few days more."

"Drat," Reginald said with a laugh. "And here I thought I could finally be knighted like I've wanted since I was a boy. But come in! Come in! Dinner should be ready soon, let us head to the dining room. Erm, the chairs may be…"

"If I could have a few pillows to kneel on that would be fine," Asgore said as he squeezed through the doorframe. "I am larger than most other monsters as well, so it is not considered odd for me to kneel at the table while others sit when I visit my subjects."

"So, Japanese style," Reginald said thoughtfully. "Well, I won't object if that's your culture." He waved the two of them on and led them down a hallway with soft lighting and a long ornate carpet over hardwood floors. They looked almost exactly the same as they did when Silas was… younger. It put him in that same frame of mind as well, like stepping through the front door sent him back in time eight years. It was exactly what he was afraid of, and exactly why he had not come back to visit during college. It was most especially unwelcome today, when his skin itched and his suit felt like a costume.

His father turned to him, "So, I hear you're a foster parent now. I was under the impression you disliked children. They must have made quite an impression on you."

Silas exhaled sharply. "Something like that, yes. Seeing them in such dire straits I couldn't leave them alone. That's all it comes down to."

"It isn't that simple, we both know that. But it does remind me." Reginald snapped his fingers. "Do you need help with… anything?"

Silas willfully misinterpreted the question. He was surely asking about medical matters, but what was on his mind was of less personal nature. "In order to get room for the monsters to build their new homes at the base of Mt. Ebott, I will need to negotiate with the current owner of that land. Can you provide me with any insight you might have into Ms. Beatrice Lincoln?"

Reginald tilted back his head and laughed. That was probably not a good sign. "I don't envy you, having to deal with her. She's one of the tea moguls, and her personal fortune is in the billions. That's with a 'b'. And she earned all of it herself: starting with almost nothing, crushing her rivals, and keeping few friends. Very accurate bullshit detector, and impossible to rattle. And she never, and I mean _never_ , gives out anything for free. Even her philanthropy is worked out based on what she needs for tax deductions to the penny. And don't think she's gotten better over time; she's got more spunk at 79 than I've seen in people a third her age. Whatever trickery you managed on poor Governor Patrick won't work on her."

"About what I expected," Silas said with a wince.

They arrived at a solid oak door, which Reginald opened into a grand dining room. A crystal chandelier hung over a maplewood table long enough to seat a dozen comfortably with a red tablecloth over it. Already seated was- Silas stiffened. There was a young man in a polo shirt and dark jeans. The man's blue eyes sparkled as he looked up and spotted Silas, an expression not mirrored on Silas' own face. Despite this the two men looked very similar; same color hair, similar complexion, the same long nose.

Silas shot a look at his father. "What is the meaning of this? He should be-"

"Your _brother_ ," Reginald stepped on his question as he rounded the table to sit at the head, "heard that you were coming and insisted on returning from school for just this one night. I'll go check the status of our supper, I'll let you two catch up and be right back." He backpedaled out of the room and closed the doors behind him, giving Silas a smile and a wink before he did so.

"Hey," Reginald Jr., or 'Reggie', said as he stood and walked over to Silas. "Sorry I'm not really dressed for this. As soon as I heard you were coming I rushed to come back home for at least a few hours."

"You shouldn't have."

Reggie paused like he was a record and the needle just skipped, but barreled on anyway with a nervous laugh. "I get that you're still mad, but this is the first time we've seen each other since-"

"Since you made your opinion perfectly clear," he said with a sneer. Every word dripped venom.

Reggie licked his lips, the smile on his face fading. "… Okay, I deserve that. Back then, I was taken off guard and said some things I didn't mean. I'm sorry. I know that this is important for you but… look, it's hard for me too. I've had a big sister so long I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about an older brother. I don't really get it, but I'm trying. I really am."

Silas' eyes flashed. "That would have meant a lot more two years ago, when I came to you confused and scared and you justified all my fears."

"Aw c'mon Leese, at least-!"

That did it. Silas felt his spine stiffen. He spun on the balls of his feet and called over his opposite shoulder, "Thank my father for his hospitality, but I really must be on my way. Perhaps I can join you-"

Reggie grabbed onto Silas' hand and tugged to stop him. "Wait, I'm sorry, that slipped out. I just said this is hard for me, you know? Hey, I'm your brother. The only one you've got. Don't you think we owe each other a bit of leeway?"

Silas' lips drew back in a snarl. "I owe you-"

" _AAAAA-CHOO!_ "

A sneeze thundered throughout the room and both men whirled toward Asgore. The king of monsters wrinkled his nose and opened and closed his mouth a few times to loosen his jaw. "Sorry," he said lamely.

"B-bless you," Reggie stammered, apparently having just now noticed the king and craning his neck. "You're uh… a big fellow, aren't you?"

Silas, too, had forgotten all about Asgore when confronted with his brother. He was not acting like himself. He was letting himself get too agitated. As much as he wanted to tell Reggie off their father clearly intended for them to patch things up. In his house, Silas would play by his rules. "Fine. Fine. I… may be a little on edge due to all the stress, but that doesn't give me the right to take it out on you. I apologize."

"It's okay," Reggie brushed it off. "You've got, uh, a lot on your plate. And I'm sorry too."

"Excellent!" the father of the boys announced as he returned. "I hope you did not embarrass yourselves in front of our guest."

Asgore moved a chair aside and knelt at the table, his height now reduced to something more manageable. He was still so wide as to take two spots, however. He gave an awkward smile as he assured Reginald, "They're quite spirited. It reminds me of being young again."

"Is that so?" Reginald eyed his sons but said nothing. "Well, food is on its way. Tell me, are you allergic to seafood? Even here on the coast real lobster is quite expensive and I would hate for you to miss out."

"I do not believe so," Asgore said. "It has been a very long time since I've eaten meat that wasn't snail."

"What luck! I had considered having escargot instead!" Reginald laughed and Asgore chuckled politely, but Silas and Reggie did not. They had still yet to sit down: every time Silas was about to sit Reggie would move to take the chair opposite him, which prompted Silas to try and move one spot over, Reggie followed, Silas escaped, ad nauseum. Reginald sighed as he caught wind of their antics. "Just sit," he ordered. They did so, Silas glaring at Reggie as they sat across from one another.

"Yes," Asgore said with a wince. "Very… very spirited."

* * *

"Uuuuuuugh, I'm so booooooooored…"

Undyne paced around the living room and kitchen while informing everyone of her current emotional state. Her complaint rang true. Alphys had completed her report for the Queen and was browsing the internet. Frisk curled themself up on the recliner, using the armrest as a pillow and watching television unenthusiastically. Marty, Silas' designated house-sitter, sat at the kitchen table with his head down and arms curled up around his face to block the light. His attempts at napping were not going well, not the least because of Papyrus' inability or unwillingness to regulate his audio and Undyne poking him every few minutes hoping for some stimulation.

"I suppose a break would serve us well," Toriel admitted. She and Papyrus were discussing monster integration and how to win the trust of humanity, but they had spent the entire afternoon and a good chunk of the morning doing that. "But we cannot leave the house; not all of us will fit in the small car left to us, and even if we could we are forbidden from being out in public."

"And there's no vid-yo games," Frisk grumbled. "And Silas doesn't own any movies Toriel will let me watch."

"Never fear!" Papyrus cried. "When things got a little dull underground, there was always board games!"

The monsters perked up a bit, nodding in agreement. Marty caught the atmosphere and looked at them suspiciously. "I thought our old crew was kinda weird to care about those things. But you all seem… remarkably okay with that."

Papyrus explained, "Some monsters enjoy physical competition, but for many of us board games are an excellent pastime! Low-cost, reusable entertainment that fosters community… it's really valuable when you spend your whole life within a few miles of where you were born! Most monsters know the rules for things like chess and reversi, copies of those end up floating through the dump all the time. We also know older games that can be crafted with what we had underground, like Morris. But every so often a strange one will come up like Ticket to Ride or a memo someone wrote on how to play Skulls & Roses, and when a new game comes down there's always a rush to learn how to play it."

"Huh," Marty said, rubbing his chin. "That's pretty interesting. Alright then, I'll help you pick something out. I recognize a couple of the games here, but not all of them." He picked through the boxes like a miner shifting rock in their search for precious ore, arranging them into two piles. "Everything in this one I know, I've never played these ones. Geez, how and why does Silas own so _many_ of these…?"

"Ah!" Papyrus picked up a relatively small box. "This one! I looked at it earlier and it seemed like a friendly and pleasant game. I was hoping to get a chance to try it! Not sure how to pronounce this, though. Sar-sass-own-ay?"

"It's _Carcassone_ (KAR-kass-ON)," Marty corrected, adding a bit of accent to the last syllable. "It's French. It's a pretty simple game but a lot of fun. So, you've got these stacks of tiles, right? And on them there's roads, fields, city walls, and some other stuff. On your turn you take a tile and place it face-up around other tiles that fit it; you can't end a road by driving it into a wall or plant a field in the middle of a city."

Papyrus straightened up. "Like a puzzle!"

"Kinda, yeah! You can also claim a road, abbey, city, or field by putting a tiny wooden person called a 'meeple' on it. When the city or road is finished you pick them back up and score points based on how large you got to make it. When there are no more tiles to place the player who's got the most points wins."

"So we're all helping each other build a lovely countryside!" Toriel said. "How wonderful!"

Marty stared at her for a moment before his face split into an ear-to-ear grin. "Sure. It's a lovely game of friendship and unity. I'll let you guys do the first round without me, I wanna see how it plays out. Anyone else want in on this?"

Toriel noticed Frisk poking their head up over the back of the recliner, roused from their listlessness by the flurry of activity and excitement. "Frisk, you should join us!" They nodded and bounded over, taking a seat next to Toriel.

Undyne called out, "You too, Alphys! We've only just met the Queen, a board game would be a great way to get to know her better!"

Alphys tore herself away from the computer with considerably more difficulty than Frisk with the computer, but she acquiesced. "W-W-W-Well, okay I guess. Uh, please treat me nicely…"

"No way!" Undyne barked. "We're going all-in, full power, no mercy! Though we're friends outside the game, once it begins we're bitter rivals! Crush all our enemies!"

"It would be better to manage your expectations," Toriel said. "I am not sure there will be much competition in this game." At this Marty covered his mouth with his hand and sputtered, but waved Toriel off when she eyed him suspiciously.

Each player got their supply of meeples: the red ones to Frisk, yellow to Alphys, blue to Undyne, pink to Toriel, and black for Papyrus. Again they offered the green pieces to Marty, but he politely declined. The game began with each player putting down tiles and meeples, Marty explaining how pieces and scoring functioned as it came up. After about five minutes everyone had the basic rules down; the most curious rule was that a field, road, or city that already had been claimed by a meeple of one player could not be claimed by another. However, if a player began a new feature and later connected it to one owned by another player, they would earn equal points when it was completed. That was how Undyne and Frisk began working together to build a large city, combining their turns to add onto it and make it truly gigantic.

It was seven minutes into the game that Frisk picked up a new piece, one with a field along two sides and walled cities taking up the others. Chara studied the tile Frisk had picked up, then the state of the board. "Hey Frisk," they said darkly. "Ask to see the rules real quick. Pull them up in front of you so they can't see you." Frisk did as asked, unfurling the rules sheet like a map to a forgotten civilization. With their face hidden from the other players they raised an eyebrow while Chara skimmed the rules to see if a particular circumstance was accounted for. They swallowed when they saw the answer. They whispered so Papyrus could not overhear, "The reality of this game is not as friendly as everyone thinks; it was made by humans, remember. Their cruel and greedy nature has been woven into the rules in a very subtle way. I see a way to use the piece you have to gain a lot of points, but its going to change the nature of this game pretty drastically when everyone else sees what you've done. And let me warn you, monsters can get awfully competitive once they've been given the go-ahead. So here's the question: do you want to see this peaceful game of building and co-operation continue?" Their smile and eyes thinned in malevolence. "Or do you want to win?"

Frisk regarded them carefully. Then, still hidden from the other players, an evil smile to match Chara's spread on their own face.

"Good answer," Chara said. "Okay, here's what you do…"

Frisk put their tile down and added one of their red wooden persons on top of it, starting a new city a couple spaces away from the city they were building with Undyne. Their next turn they put down another city tile to connect the new and old cities together. Marty was in on the secret; he winked at Frisk knowingly but said nothing. Undyne furrowed her brow and slowly turned her head to stare at the child. Frisk wondered what their face said about them right now. Did Undyne realize, on some level, she had been tricked? Or how badly?

It did not matter, there was nothing she could do about it now. With just a few more tiles the city was completed. "Soooooo what happens now?" Undyne asked. "There's two of Frisk's people on there and one of mine. How do we score this?"

In a cloying, sing-song tone Marty said, "Oh dear. It's been such a long time, I don't remember. Can someone read the rule sheet and find out?" He was clearly having trouble stopping himself from bursting into laughter.

Alphys began poking through the rules. After a moment she found the section she had been looking for, how to score completed territories with more than one person's meeples in control. Her claws shook as she reread the section. "W-Well," she started. "To start with, Frisk has more of their meeples, so they get the full point value for completing the city."

"Do you know how much that is, Frisk?" Toriel said. "It's two points per tile, with an additional two points for each flag. How much is that?"

Frisk licked their lips and their head flicked to the side. Chara refused to give the answer so it took Frisk a moment to arrive at it. "Twenny… twenny-two points!"

"Very good!" Toriel congratulated.

Undyne shrugged. "Pretty nice! So what, I get half that or something?" Eleven points was not too great for all the effort she put into that city, but it was better than-

"Um," Alphys said, tilting her glasses so the reflection completely obscured her eyes. "You get nothing."

Undyne's face froze in a bared-teeth grimace. "What."

"It says right here," Alphys said, pointing with one claw. "If a structure is completed and one player has more meeples on the property, they get the full value of the feature and everyone else gets zero points."

No one said anything as what just happened sunk in. Frisk tried to keep the smug satisfied grin off their face. Marty began a slow clap, and everyone turned to look at him. "Congrats, kid," he said with genuine praise. "You're the first one to figure it out. I would have put my money on the dinosaur, so good job."

Toriel looked down at the gameboard again, seeming to see it for the first time. "Oh," she said finally, rubbing the top of her pink pieces. "I think… I am beginning to see how this game is supposed to be played."

"Indeed," Alphys said with dark rumbles and steepled fingers. "This game… is actually rather cutthroat."

Papyrus said nothing. He did not need to. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, rolling one of his black meeples in his palm like it were a die. Before he was paying only half-hearted attention to the game; now he stared at the arrangement of tiles like a dagger was going to come bursting out of it at any second.

Undyne glared at Frisk, who only shrugged. "You told us to crush our emenies," they said with a sheepish grin.

She reared her head back and roared in laughter, slapping her thigh. "Well hot damn! The kid actually pulled one over on me." Oh, she wasn't mad. That was good. Frisk's smile widened. Then it ran in terror from Undyne's shark-tooth grin as she pressed her face right against theirs. "But don't think you've won. Oh-ho-hoooo no. You've only _begun the game._ "

"I take it by your current terror you did not fully understand my warning," Chara mused. "You remember what Gerson said? Monsters can age or even die if they hold onto their anger and aggression for too long. So they channel that into games and sports. For all their friendliness they have a lot of steam to let off." A glance around the table showed this: the monsters glared at the board, chuckling darkly to themselves as they no longer saw opportunities to co-operate but weaknesses to exploit. Chara looked down at the game board, an identical look on their own face. "Now, the battle truly begins."

* * *

Asgore was not used to eating human food. It had been over a thousand years, he had forgotten how it stuck to his insides and made him feel heavier with every bite he swallowed. It would be converted to energy in time, true, but it would be a matter of hours instead of seconds. He considered whether it would be socially acceptable to reheat the food on his plate with fire magic, turning it into monster food right at the table. Probably not. The food itself tasted strongly of salt, and not in the good way. It also took some effort to crack the shells to get at the meat inside, even for someone with his strength. He was very careful to pick the meat clean of any shell fragments; Toriel, when she figuratively let her fur down, could toss snails into her mouth and bite clean through the shells with an ear-splitting crunch. It was likely the dragon in her bloodline, making her teeth hard as diamonds. His own teeth were more like a cat or a bat's, he never figured out which, and much too fragile for such a feat.

The two brothers sat across the table from one another. Looking at them side by side the resemblance was uncanny; they had the same oval face, the same long nose, the same blond hair (though Reggie wore his long with dark highlights woven into them while Silas' was shorter and considerably more over-managed). If it were not for their hair Asgore could very easily mistake one for the other, though he supposed they would not look so identical to someone who had been differentiating human faces between each other all their lives. Their body language could not have been more different, however. Silas' movements were stiff and sullen, like every bite took physically and emotional effort. He stared into his plate, refusing to look up or to the side or anywhere but his food. His annoyance radiated off him as a tangible oppressive force. Reggie ate at a more leisurely pace and with a lazier air, looking about him every few moments (but never at Asgore, he noticed). Several times he watched Silas for a few moments, lips pursed, before returning to his dinner.

Asgore was reminded of his own family dinners, before everything went wrong. Everyone would share stories about how their day went, or what kind of people they met, or what progress they had made on long-term goals, or even what they were excited about. He remembered when Chara first arrived; for the first few days they took their meals away from everyone else, and only after considerably prodding by Asriel did they begin sitting down at the table. Even then they would act very much like what Silas was doing now, never volunteering information or asking a question of anyone else while answering anything directed at them in shrugs or monosyllables. It took them months before they got a handle on mealtime conversation. He was starting to wonder whether that was Chara's introversion or if reticence at mealtime was common to all humans. Did humans ever eat like a family? Did they enjoy each other's company, or did all of them treat family dinners like an ordeal to pass through?

"You know," Reggie, broke the stalemate. "You've always been kinda posh, but college made you a lot worse. It's not like we're old money, you don't have to talk so formal even the Queen of England would tell you to loosen up."

Silas rolled his eyes. "I've been going to a speech therapist so I can speak more like a man. I'm not fully used to it yet, so I tend to over-correct if I get agitated."

Reggie nodded. "Ah, I'd been wondering how you've been sounding like you've got a set of balls to drop."

Silas' fork clattered against his plate. "Ugh, must you?"

His brother's smile fell again. "I… I don't mean anything by it. I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

"You're failing, please stop. I don't have to put up with-"

"Children," Reginald Sr. raised his voice without looking up. That was all. The two sons returned their attention to their dinners. Asgore frowned. Silas was in his twenties, and Reggie was not much younger than that. So why were they acting like such brats?

"Actually, King Asgore?" Reginald Sr. announced, putting his fork down and moving his napkin from his lap to the table. "Can you join me in the other room for a moment?" Confused, Asgore got to his feet and followed Reginald to the adjoining hallway, glancing back one last time at the estranged brothers.

In the hallway Reginald allowed his polished and affable front to crack. He sighed as he stared at the door to the dining room, shaking his head. "I confess, my primary purpose of arranging this was not to meet you, but to help my children patch things up. It was not always like this. It breaks my heart. Do you have a family, King Asgore?"

"Just Asgore, thank you. I had a family… a long time ago. I miss them still."

"Then you understand my frustration with these two. I don't know the details of this particular fight, neither of them will talk to me about it. It's possible, in fact likely, that Reggie has been… undiplomatic, and my eldest can get like this when insulted. Holding grudges, refusing attempts at apologies. Slow to anger, but just as slow to cool. But that only explains it, it does not excuse the behavior. I have never seen it quite this bad. I am concerned this may not be like previous times. I… know we have only met an hour ago, but you are in a unique position to help. So I must ask for your aid."

The king felt his cheeks get hot. He was no stranger to flattery, but no matter how many times he experienced it he could never quite handle it gracefully. "Gosh, I feel for you, but I'm not sure what I can do. I've known your son-" Reginald's lip twitched at the word. "- for only a single weekend. I think if I tried to give him advice he'd say it was none of my business."

"I would in fact put money that would be the precise reaction you will get. But try. Keep an eye out, see if you can find an opportunity to end this feud. That's all I'm asking." He straightened a little. "And, one other thing. Please, try to keep yourselves and my family out of danger. I don't agree with all of their decisions, but they will forever be my children."

Asgore thought of a human child with chestnut brown hair and red eyes playing alongside a boss monster child, and felt an instant camaraderie form with the Pembrooke patriarch. Even if his phrasing was odd in a way he could not quite place. "From one father to another, I will make sure no harm comes to him."

Reginald's posture softened. "Good. Good. I admit I had some doubts about this 'monster' business, but… humans and monsters really aren't so different, are they? For my part, I will help you in any way I can. My child has gone to bat for you, that makes you my people too."

"Thank you. That means a lot to me," Asgore said with a sincere warmth.

They both sighed deeply, realizing what could no longer be avoided. Reginald said with all the gravity of a man heading to the gallows, "I suppose we'd better… get back in there and finish dinner. I doubt any more progress will be made with those two today."

The door opened to reveal Silas and Reggie in exactly the positions they were in when they left, the only difference being the food on Silas' plate had diminished while Reggie's had not. As Asgore walked back to his place Reginald offered, "By the way, I can get you in touch with the mayor of our fair city. I would think you would like to introduce yourselves to her first, discuss how you're going to go public. It will be a lot easier to make a good impression with the local government on your side. Will tomorrow work for you?"

Silas put down his fork and glared. "I start work tomorrow. I'm guessing it will run late."

"So, the answer is yes! Don't make that face, you can't do everything for them. No one person is going to be the savior of monsterkind; if they are to be accepted, they will have to do a lot of the work themselves. Only… can any of them drive?"

Reggie said, "I'd offer, but… I have to drive back tonight. I got class in the morning. And, uh, I don't think you'd fit in my car. No offense, your majesty."

What was with everyone today? "Just Asgore, thank you. Do you suppose Marty will be available?"

"Probably," Silas scowled. "He's basically unemployed."

His father clapped. "Excellent! I'll contact you later tonight or tomorrow morning with the details. This is the last thing you can expect from me for a while, though; I just finished saying you shouldn't rely on any one person after all, ha ha ha!"

Asgore smiled and bowed his head. "Your generosity is matched only by your wisdom. I won't let either go to waste." Surprisingly, things were looking up.

* * *

The game was in its final stages. Only a few tiles remained to be placed. Undyne had rallied a terrific comeback after Frisk's betrayal, so everyone was neck and neck. Alphys fiddled with one of her pieces. It would all come down to farms. She had neglected them so far, since farmers remained in place the whole game and could make you run out of pieces if you were not careful, but now was the time to sacrifice them. She placed a tile and laid her meeple down on the field to claim a farm.

"You can't add one there," Papyrus said calmly. "You can't put down a meeple to claim farmland that already belongs to someone else, remember?"

Alphys' eyes bulged. "What?! Where…!" That was when she saw Papyrus's master plan; he had been carefully arranging the edges of the game board to allow a single contiguous field to surround the entire play area, and a second huge field somehow had materialized in the labyrinth of the countryside's interior. He had claimed that farmland early and expanded it with meticulous precision. With just those two farmers Papyrus controlled nearly half of all available fields and was supplying several completed cities; each of those pieces were worth at least 15 points and were preventing anyone else from efficiently gaining points from farms. Alphys did mental math quickly enough to see the hopelessness of her situation. "W-we've been outmaneuvered…"

"Nyeh-heh-heh!" Papyrus bragged. "You thought I was harmless because I wasn't interested in your backstabbing shenanigans, but you've been thoroughly japed! From the beginning I saw the value of large farms to gain many points at once while concealing the true value of my pieces. It's too late to stop me!"

It was true; there were only a handful of tiles left and no way to dislodge tiles already placed. The game went on to its inevitable conclusion. In the end Papyrus squeaked ahead to finish in first place.

"Whew!" Toriel said with a laugh. "That was great fun! And that only lasted… an hour?"

"Thereabouts," Marty said. "Maybe an hour fifteen. We could squeeze in another game or two if you want."

"I think I'd like that," Alphys said as she shuffled the tiles. "See how the game is different when we all know what's going on from the start." Her nervousness had disappeared, the fires of competition giving her focus worthy of a Royal Scientist.

"YEEEEEAAAAH! Revenge will be mine!" Undyne glared at Frisk, who made a "come and get it" gesture.

"In that case, pass me the green dudes." Marty gave them all an ear-to-ear grin. "'Cause now, you're all in big trouble."

"Struggle vainly!" Papyrus taunted. "I have never been beaten at _Carcassone_ , and I never will!"

They ended up playing game after game. They rotated players in and out, continuing to play even after Toriel took a break to make dinner and then sat down for her normal turn; and after Silas and Asgore returned, when Silas loosened his tie and demanded to be in on the next game and Asgore got trounced in his first game but made a respectable showing on his second; and after Undyne carried a Frisk who had laid their head down and started drooling on the table up to bed; and after the clock struck midnight and no one had the presence of mind to object when someone called for "just one more round". For a while they forgot their duties and responsibilities and how deeply dreadfully important and fragile the next few days would be and simply… had fun.

* * *

"Here! Here!"

"(We have something!)"

Sans blinked himself awake. How long had he been out? It felt like he had not napped for more than a few minutes. His surroundings were not wholly familiar; nobody ever really went into the King's basement. Those rows of coffins were unsettling even if you did not know what they were for. The lids had all been thrown off and set to the side so from the moment you entered the room you could tell they were empty. The last, the one with the red heart carved on the top, had been opened by the human Susan. The others had already been opened when Undyne arrived. Dogamy and Dogaressa bounced with nervous energy, eager to report their findings. "alright, what's the scoop?"

"There's two scents here, not counting the other human that came with Undyne," Dogamy explained. "One was the weird puppy we met in Snowdin… Frisk the Human, right?"

"that's their name, yeah. the other?"

"(The loud skeleton. Your brother, Papyrus.)"

"that… there must be some mistake. paps has nuthin' to do with this." Why would he have ever come down here? And more importantly, when? The only time he had come all the way to New Home was to stop Asgore and Frisk from fighting. Sans had been watching him, he had not made a detour into the basement before the fight and afterward he never sneaked away even once. The only time Sans could not account for is after the flower showed up, and they all regained consciousness about the same time. Papyrus could not have done this in his sleep. Although… it had been a while since Papyrus slept and it should have worked its way out of his system, but…

Dogamy interrupted his train of thought, "No, of course Papyrus isn't involved. After all, those are the only scents here."

"(What we mean to say is, there isn't any scent left by the bodies.)"

That… that was bad. "wait, you're sayin' the humans didn't smell like anything? but that's-"

Dogaressa nodded. "(Impossible, yes. Even after a monster collapses into dust they still carry their scent, so a human body should keep its scent as well. We can detect smells even if they're months old. So…)"

Dogamy finished: "The bodies were stolen a very, very long time ago."

* * *

AN: I like board games. I think the monsters would like board games too. If there's a game you want to see them play, leave a recommendation in a comment or review and I'll see if I can manage it in a future chapter. Note: requests for the monsters to play Monopoly will be ignored. Monopoly sucks.


	10. The Case Against Mondays

Author's Note: Mind you, it's been almost thirty years since I was in the second grade; I don't rightly recall what it was like outside of a few anecdotes that stuck in my mind.

* * *

 _Okay. This one. The Integrity soul._

 _Rebecca Troy was a ballet dancer first and a child second. She was one of those people driven to succeed, and her obsession with ballet bordered on mania. Her instructors said she had a gift, that she had the talent to be a once-in-a-generation prodigy. She even competed on the national level. But she pushed herself too fast, too far. According to doctors she started to develop ankle pain and tried to work through her injury. That only made things worse; her tendonitis became tendonosis. Surgery gave her back the ability to walk for short periods without pain, but the exercise regimen of a dancer was beyond her. Her career was over before it got started. This time when she disappeared along with her beloved tutu, leotard, and ballet shoes her parents immediately suspected the mountain and organized a search party. No trace of her was ever found, and once again the caves leading into the Underground somehow escaped their notice._

… _There's no way I can be unbiased here. No monster could. Whatever her life was like on the surface she didn't have the right to… to do what she did when she reached the capital. We have most of it on video. I can't bring myself to watch any of the tapes except for the last one. Gaster and Sans confronted Rebecca. They talked for a bit, but there's no audio and the frame rate isn't high enough to make out Gaster's signs. Everyone involved became more and more agitated until Rebecca was screaming and charging at them, then Gaster… he summoned these horrible skull heads which fired bursts of concentrated energy from their mouths. There's something… wrong with Gaster's attack. I can't put my finger on it, but something about it gives me the creeps. And I don't think it's that he killed someone with them. More like, his attack is something that should not be. Asking questions is useless now, anyway. Gaster's vanished and no one knows when or if he'll return. And Sans… he won't talk about what happened or what she said that made Gaster use that attack. He's always deflected, saying she was just saying crazy stuff and was clearly out of her mind._

 _In all, she killed forty monsters in fifteen minutes. There are a lot of people in the capital that are glad Rebecca's dead. I don't think learning what happened on the surface will change their minds._

* * *

Susan groaned, curled up on the couch with a bag of ice on her head. The rest of her body was beneath three layers of blankets and she still felt cold. Meanwhile her forehead burned even with the ice providing relief. Everything was weak and sore.

"There you go again, Shuchun, trying to do too much," her mother sighed, her Chinese coming out like machine gun bullets. She took the thermometer out of Susan's mouth and sighed at having to push an extra button to get the Celsius readout. "Oh, you are sick, daughter dear. Very very sick. You will stay home today, let mother take care of you."

It was her own fault; she was up half the night, unable to sleep for all her mind was racing. It was hard for her to believe just two days ago she was running through an Underground world filled with fantastical monsters, and now she could not even peel herself off the couch. She was not any closer to settling her thoughts. Stupid Silas, stupid monsters, stupid Frisk, she had worked herself up into such a lather of what to do about them all it literally made her worried sick! Still, she had duties to attend to. She made a move to throw the blankets off herself but her mother's hand stopped her. "It's just a cold, mom. I'll be fine."

Her mother huffed. "Where did you get this work ethic from? Certainly not from me. Would you have preferred it if I was one of those tiger mothers? Making you practice piano or violin until your fingers bled? Well too bad. You have a lazy, lackadaisical mother who does not go in for all this overwork nonsense. Burning twice as bright for a tenth as long, where is the sense in that? No, you rest now. I've already called out sick on your behalf, they said it would be fine."

Susan was not ready to give up yet. She struggled to lift her head from the pillow. Her whole body shook with the effort. "But my kids… they're gonna make the nurse teach 'em. I can't leave them in the hands of that bore…"

"Those children will survive one day of napping at their desks. Now quit your complaining and rest." She patted Susan's knee through the covers. "Homemade chicken soup is the best thing for a cold, but we only have canned soup. Sorry your mother is such a bad cook. I will have some ready for you in a bit. What are you still doing up? Go sleep!"

She did not have the energy to fight any more. Her head buried itself in the pillow as she exhaled sharply. "At least put the TV on. Maybe the noise will help me nap."

"Noise helps you sleep? Next thing you know, you'll be telling me all those chemicals in your food make you healthy!" Despite her complaints she turned on the television. "There, watch your talking heads and bad soaps. Rest well, dear."

Susan coughed. "Thanks, mom." She closed her eyes and sighed. She might be able to sneak out once her mother left for work, but by then school would have started and what would be the point? So she surrendered, allowing the buzz of daytime talk TV to lull her into the sleep that had eluded her so successfully the night before.

* * *

Since it would be another week until this house was added to the bus driver's route, Marty would drive Frisk to and from school in the meantime. Silas was concerned about letting the remaining monsters have full run of the house while he was at work and Marty was running errands. But it could not be helped, and besides they had been conscientious house guests so far. Homeschooling might be an option later once monsters were recognized but for the moment there was no avoiding the public school system: Toriel had to focus on monster integration before she could do anything else, getting into a private school would take time, money, and energy Silas did not have to spare, and charter schools would not accept a poor student into their ranks at any price. Besides, Toriel thought it was important that Frisk spend time around their fellow humans and become acclimated to them. When Toriel and Marty had finished explaining all this Chara had winced and apologized, "This is at least partially due to how vocal I was about disliking humans. They don't want you to hate your own species as much as I do. Did. Do."

It was not that big a deal; Frisk knew they would have to go back someday. "I'll be good at school, Toriel. Don't worry about me."

"Man, I don't miss getting up this early," Marty said while drinking coffee straight from the pot. After a moment he looked at the pot of coffee, smacked his lips, and asked Toriel, "Hey, if it's not too much trouble could you warm this back up for me? Thanks." Toriel obliged, and this time when he took a swig his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "Oh wow, when the caffeine is monster-ized it hits you all at once. Gonna have to remember that trick, I am _wired_. Alright Friskers, let's get going before this wears off!"

Marty dropped them off at school, where an adult was waiting for them. Chara floated to the side and just behind Frisk as they waved goodbye to Marty. Chara vibrated in mid-air, looking up at the building with wide eyes. "Sorry," they said with a little bit of a squeak. "It's just, I've never been to school before, not even kindergarten. I'm finally going to get to see what it's like! I mean, I know it's going to be filled with lots of humans and I'm not thrilled about that, but I should be able to manage. Everyone's here to learn things, I want to learn things, they don't need to know I exist, so it'll work out!"

Frisk sighed. They were going to learn some things, all right. "Chara," they said, confident the teacher could not hear them. "I need to ask you. Please, if I'm going to do something stupid, you have to stop me."

"Stupid?" Chara asked. "Such as…?"

"It's the same every time. I get sent to a new family, I try to be nice and good and sweet to make friends, but it never works. Then I get mad and ruin it." They took a shaky breath. "Toriel is the best mom I've ever had. Nobody else will ever take me. I _can't_ mess this up. I hafta to be a good kid and make it work."

Chara shrugged. "I'm not sure what you expect of me, but I'll do my best."

By this time they had gotten close enough to the teacher that Frisk was risking being overheard. He was a small man with a thin beard and heavy bags under his eyes, lesson planner in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. "Are you… Frisk Holder?" he asked. His voice was a low monotone, the kind that reached inside your head and fumbled for the "off" switch. Frisk nodded, partially to rattle their brain in an attempt to not fall asleep on their feet. "I see. My name is Mr. Moulton. Good morning, Frisk."

He sounded like he was already bored of dealing with Frisk and was about to fall asleep on his feet at any moment. At least his name was easy to pronounce. Frisk gave him their best smile. "Good morning Mr. Moulton!"

He nodded, satisfied with Frisk's mastery of the ritual morning greeting. "Very good. Follow me to the classroom." He opened the front door with the hand that held the planner and inserted his loafer into the crack, pushing it open the rest of the way with his foot while gesturing inside.

The second grade classrooms were in the middle of the first floor, requiring Frisk and Mr. Moulton to walk past the rambunctious first graders. Their shouts and shrieks echoed like howler monkeys trying to talk over each other. The walls were covered with decorations made of construction paper spattered with glitter and markers. The corkboard was pinned with several brightly-colored notices of upcoming events and contests trying to elbow each other to make Frisk notice them. As they walked Mr. Moulton informed them, "Normally I'm the school nurse, but today I will be serving as your substitute. Your normal teacher is out sick today, you should meet her tomorrow, or Wednesday at the latest. Do you know the days of the week?"

Frisk nodded. "There's Monday, and Tuesday, and… Wedsday, and Thursday, and Friday. Then it's the weekend." They hoped he would leave it at that; "Sunday" was easy enough but "Saturday" always gave them trouble.

"Good. I will ask no questions about recent events. Others may not be so polite. Please remember you can refuse to answer any questions you don't want to, no matter who asks them. I'm sure their curiosity will fade with time." Oh, right… just last week Frisk had been listed as a missing child. They gulped down their anticipation. Normally everyone ignored the new kid, but maybe this time it would be different?

The door was open and kids were sitting on desks, running through aisles, and clumping up in groups of four or five. "Settle down class, everyone to your seats," Mr. Moulton droned. The crowd dispersed, leaving only Frisk standing at the front. "We have a new student today. This is Frisk Holder. Everyone make them feel welcome."

The children smiled and said, "Good morning Frisk," all at different times and different cadences. There were a few disinterested glances but most of the kids were not even looking at them. Frisk was very familiar with this song and dance. Transfer students were to be regarded with suspicion at best and disdain at worst. This new school would be no different, it seemed, but they could not let that stop them. Time to try this again. Stand up straight, big smile, and, "Iz nice to meet you."

Mr. Moulton said, "Very good. You may sit… hm… there." He pointed to an empty seat in the fourth column, second from the back. Not close enough to the window to look outside but close enough to get a nice breeze. Could be a lot worse. Frisk hurried to their new seat.

A girl from the last row, directly behind Frisk's new seat, raised her hand. "Mr. Moulton, why can't the new kid sit over there?" She indicated an empty spot across the room, middle row, first column closest to the door.

Mr. Moulton referred to his class roster and made a humming sound of faint disapproval. "That's where Oswald sits. Did you already forget him?" The girl sheepishly shook her head but the color on her cheeks suggested she had.

A rough looking boy raised his hand but did not wait to be called on before asking, "Hey, how come he doesn't have to come to school?"

"Oswald is sick. Now let me just add Frisk to the roster and… there you are, you are now part of the class. Oh, I forgot. Good morning class." A chorus of "Good morning Mr. Moulton" resounded from the children. "Your first period is history; your teacher left me some worksheets for you to do. Please read the material carefully and answer the questions. I will be available to answer questions, but if you finish early you may read quietly until the rest of the class finishes." He handed out stacks of papers to the first person in each row, who took one of the stapled bundles and passed the rest back.

Frisk took theirs but did not look at it yet. If they saw it before they were prepared it would be bad luck. Instead they inhaled deeply, eyes toward the ceiling. Please let this be okay. Please let it change. Maybe their time in the Underground or all the Saves and Loads finally knocked some piece of detritus loose, or pushed the two halves of their brain into alignment, or something that would let them be normal and not stupid. They looked down at the worksheet, skipping the instructions and going right to the first quiz question.

 _l) MhGm bib ChnizfoqhGn SoIomdvs aiscouGn AmGnieo?_  
 _o. l77G_  
 _d. l4gs_  
 _e. lEGg_  
 _b. 1SOB_

Frisk's eyes burned. They squinted at the page but the letters refused to rearrange themselves into anything that made the slightest sense. They opened their eyes and mentally begged, no, _pleaded_ with Chara to save them. Chara looked down at them, uncaring. "I keep telling you, I'm not going to be around forever. You shouldn't rely on me for things like this, it will only set you up for failure later on. You need to tell them you can't read."

They knew that, they agreed that they should tell Toriel and Silas, but Chara did not understand, they did not get it. They had to be a good kid, they could not be a bother. They would not be able to stand seeing Toriel's disappointed face when she realized the child she pledged to take care of was so irreparably broken. So fine. Fine! Frisk snarled as they circled the answers without trying to understand the questions. One of the four had to be correct, right? And it would be the same for all the other questions. Maybe if they got lucky, really really lucky, they could pass this.

* * *

In most jobs in most companies your first day is a meet and greet. You say hello to your neighbors, note the name of your immediate supervisor and their place in the chain of command, add the IT person's name and phone number to your speed dial, etcetera. If you are feeling ambitious you might shadow someone else to get a feel for the nuts and bolts of the work you will be doing. But a public defender works for the government- the perpetually overworked, underpaid, understaffed government- and so your first day is a folderful of clients with today's court date, directions to the local courtroom, and a hearty "good luck". Silas had already been through this treatment in Texas, although there he had been given so many clients it was mathematically impossible to meet with all of them in the span of a single workday. Here at least he could probably manage everyone in a day if he hurried, but that would not make it pleasant. There was no way around it, public defender was a crap job. Usually only people just starting out with no connections did this kind of work; the hours were long, the pay stunk, and the hatred people had for rapists and killers was only slightly more extreme than the odium they held for the people tasked with defending rapists and killers. The public was convinced that every defense attorney was a walking bag of slime, a say-anything do-anything devil who acted as the friendly face of mastermind villains to evade justice. As an attorney for the lowest and least of defendants Silas had long ago become familiar with the true face of criminality. Like the man in front of him now, breathlessly telling him about being railroaded and the charges being, in his words, "complete fucking bullshit".

"- and there was no goddamn way that was happening, so I socked him right in the face! I mean, right? He was trying to rape her! How is that assault?"

"It isn't," Silas admitted, listening closely. It was perfectly legal to act in self-defense on someone else's behalf of course. But he still had doubts; any officer would know that, so why arrest his client on the scene? "Does the story end there?"

"Well, yeah," the client said while shaking his head 'no'. "That's basically it."

"You punched him a few times and… what, he fell unconscious?"

"Naw, man, he tripped and fell over after the first hit! I went to check on my friend, make sure she was okay, you know? She was in shock, could barely move, taking everything she had to keep from crying. And of course the asshole's trying to slip away, holding his pants up so he doesn't trip on them. So I ran over and knocked him down again. I had to keep kicking him until he learned to stay down and-"

"So you had the opportunity to retreat, and instead resumed attacking someone who was no longer a threat."

"Are you listening?! I had no idea who this guy was, he could have had a half-dozen buddies around the corner! And if I let him get away I'd never find him again! I wasn't gonna let him get away with it, I had to make him pay!"

Silas drummed his fingers on the table. "Stopping him was the right thing to do. You weren't wrong. But you went too far. As far as the law is concerned you had no right to keep hitting him after he tried to flee. Now, did you tell this story to the officer?"

The client nodded, eyes narrowed. "Well, yeah, of course I did. I had to get him to see things my way."

" _After_ he read you your rights?"

The defendant took a moment to respond as he realized, at just that moment, how he had screwed up. "… Yeah."

This was the reality of crime. The vast majority of crimes are not committed by masterminds who meticulously think through every step of their villainous scheme. They are done by stressed out, desperate people with poor impulse control lashing out at a world they see, rightly or not, as unfair. They did not plan, they did not plot, they certainly did not draw out a risk/reward matrix for whether their immediate gratification was worth the possibility of being caught. People who thought with their hearts and acted with their hands before their heads had a chance to catch up. The police had a term for these people: "knuckleheads". Silas was a bit more sympathetic than to call them that, but he had to admit it was an apt term.

"Listen," Silas insisted. "This is not the end of the world. Do you have any priors? You ever been arrested for anything else?"

He shrugged. "Shoplifting when I was still in school, but that goes away, right?"

Silas was about to provide what was true for Texas, stopped himself, and explained correctly, "It gets sealed, yes, so it can't be viewed by the public. It's still there, though, and the prosecutor will have access to it." Silas wrote a note down. "Still, that was almost ten years ago. You're not a violent person, and you generally stay on the right side of the law. Everyone's entitled to a few slip-ups. And an imperfect self-defense plea is certainly better than nothing. I'll talk to the prosecutor about your case, see what I can get for a deal."

The man blinked at him. "You mean we're not fighting it?"

"We could," Silas admitted. "But they have your confession."

"Right, fuck." He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Silas tapped a few keys on his tablet to re-familiarize himself with the statutes. What luck, like Texas New Hampshire did not class assault and battery as separate crimes. "Don't get me wrong, if I can get them to drop the case I will. But at the very least I can probably talk them into listing the incident as Class B Simple Assault. It would mean a fine but no jail time."

"No jail," the man said, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good."

"I'll see you again in the courtroom," Silas said as he shook the man's hand. "I hate to rush you but there isn't much time before the court is in session and I want to try and meet with one more person before then." He arrived an hour early and this was only the third client he had spoken with out of the twenty he would be representing today. He had briefly perused all the cases and ideally he would have been able to see all of them before their trial, but given this was literally his first day on the job there simply was not any time. This was, he learned in Texas, common for public defenders. Most defendants did not meet with their lawyer before their trial date, and that meant the defense was at a disadvantage before the word 'go'. Silas was good at his job but even he could not work miracles.

Still, he smiled with confidence he did not feel. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you're treated fairly. You're in good hands."

* * *

The golden flower was a modern marvel, world-famous for the tea brewed from its petals. A single teabag provided the same energizing effect as a cup of coffee, without the crash and with no risk of overdose. And it worked fast, the effects being felt before you could even set your drink down. The flower only grew in a small area of New England; all attempts to germinate it outside of a 50 mile range of Mt. Ebott failed. The insatiable demand combined with the strictly limited supply gave the area immediately around Mt. Ebott, most especially the nearby village of Weymouth, a brand new and unchallenged industry. Technically the flowers were a protected species, but those with money could usually find enough congressman willing to grant a waiver.

So factories sprang up, and workers came where there was work to be had. Chad Nelson had still been very young at the time this all happened, but he distinctly remembered people talking about how the factories were bringing in "the wrong sort", how the "traditional" population of Weymouth was getting pushed out, and other such hand-wringing. Now that he was older Chad did not mind what were euphemistically called "unskilled workers". He had been working alongside these people for eight months now and considered them his friends even if most of them could speak barely any English. They were a little odd, they kept to themselves and preferred music and conversation in their own language, but they were not stupid or lazy as the epithets launched at them declared. And besides, they were still human. What color someone's skin was did not matter so much, not when Asgore's paws were the size of Chad's head.

He watched the dried leaves get shredded and fall through the sieve. He was supposed to sift the leaves by hand, not letting them bundle or clump up in any one spot, but his brain was working too fast and his hands stilled. They had called it "monster food". It looked and tasted like any other food, but the moment it was in the mouth it disintegrated into an effervescent rush like golden flower tea did. Did that mean the tea was actually a type of monster food? The tea may have been FDA approved, but he was pretty sure the government was ignorant about magic. There was no telling what effect magic could have on a human body in fifteen, or twenty, or fifty years. What was it people were putting into their bodies, paying top dollar for the privilege?

A hand finger snapped inches from his face, returning him to the present. He looked around and saw his supervisor with one hand on her hip and head cocked to the side. "Workin' hard? Looks more like you're hardly working."

Chad Nelson blinked twice. "S-sorry," he grunted, smacking himself in the head with the heel of his palm. "Had kind of a rough weekend." She grinned widely, prompting Chad to correct, "Not like that."

"Really? That's a shame. You can make up for it next weekend, but if you're here you're working. Anything from outside, leave it there." She smiled as she pointed at him. "Remember, this is employment not enjoyment!"

As if he could forget. "Yeah, I got you."

* * *

The job of a diplomat was not so different from the life of a king, Asgore mused, except the former did not get nearly as much respect or free time. He was beginning to worry about the state of his garden and anxious about when he would have a chance to cultivate it, but he would have to leave that in the hands of his servants. His present work was far too delicate to leave to anyone else, even someone as passionate as Papyrus.

"I can't believe I'm working next to Mr. Dreemurr!" the skeleton said with an ear-to-ear grin. The two of them were walking down a hallway on their way to meet with the mayor of Weymouth. This was the next step in monster integration, getting the approval and commitment of the local government to help them. Despite how important this meeting was Papyrus did not seem at all nervous. "Taking on the ambassadorship was the perfect career move for me! Why, I bet after only a short time, I'll be a shoe-in for the Royal Guard! Um… you are planning to reinstate the Royal Guard in the future, yes?"

"I believe I would call it something else, to more clearly delineate a change in its mission. But yes, we will have need of a small retinue of bodyguards. I do not know how large we would need it to be, but I will certainly consider you for a place in it. Even if it would technically be a demotion from ambassador."

Papyrus' brow furrowed in clear disgust. "If it won't be called the Royal Guard then I'm not interested!" Well, that settled that then.

The door at the end of the hallway opened to a well-furnished office. A collection of chairs and a couch facing each other in a circle dominated the middle of the room. Behind this was an oak desk and a picture window serving as its backdrop. A woman was seated at the desk writing something when "King Asgore Dreemurr and Ambassador Papyrus, of the monsters of Mt. Ebott" were introduced. She stood up and walked around the desk to greet them. "Well," the woman said with a nervous laugh as she craned her neck upwards. "Reginald sure didn't exaggerate. But hi! I'm Wilma Cole, the mayor of our fine city of Weymouth. Welcome!" She was shorter than any other adult humans Asgore had met so far, Susan excepted, and a good deal more plump. Her skin was a deep, rich brown which reminded Asgore of fresh fertile soil. Her handshake was confident and firm, even if her hands were far too small to get a firm grip on Asgore's paws. She locked eyes with her staff and reminded them, "This is national security stuff, you two! Remember, no leaks to the press!" She returned her attention to Asgore and assured him, "These are my top people, everyone in this room I'd trust to secrecy. I know how hard you've been working to make your formal introduction cordial, and I wouldn't want to jeopardize that. To tell the truth I wasn't happy about you going over my head to talk to Governor Patrick, but Mr. Pembrooke told me that was his idea. How were you folks to know the etiquette of the chain of command?" She sat down on a chair and invited the monsters to sit. Papyrus fit awkwardly into a rocking chair, while the only spot which could accept Asgore's girth was the couch. "Now, this may be a little more informal than you may have expected. We're not deciding anything today, I still need some time to come to grips with all this. Tell us about yourselves! What are you, where did you come from?"

"If I may be allowed to explain," Papyrus began. "We are monsters! We have lived underneath Mt. Ebott for centuries, sealed there by a magic spell!"

"Okay, okay, magic. Normally I'd be telling you to get outta town, but right now if you told me you came from Honna-Lee I'd buy it. So you've got magic! Wow! What else you got?"

Things continued in this vein for some time. Asgore and Papyrus took turns at explaining some facet of monster existence: their history, souls, magic, the barrier. At some point in the conversation she started to lean forward, elbows on her knees and neck extended to drink up every word. Her eyes sparkled and her face brightened in barely-suppressed glee. "This is all so fascinating! Monsters, ancient wars, magic! You really know how to make people feel like kids again! You know, when I was in college and that tea made everyone notice our little home village I was sure nothing so big would ever happen here again. I want to go up to twenty year old me and tell her, 'Honey, you ain't seen nothin' yet!' Ha ha ha! Alright. So you had this barrier that kept you from getting out before. So where'd it go? How'd you bust out?"

Papyrus and Asgore shared a look. Asgore remembered Silas' warning well: they would not be able to hide what happened. He had a plan, and it sounded good, but it was up to them to put it into practice. "Well," Asgore began. "This part of our story is… less enchanting than the previous topics. All I ask is that you let us finish before passing judgment."

She started with bright and open enthusiasm, but leaned back in her seat when he started talking about a fallen human. Her eyes watered but she kept herself from crying. When he spoke of the mechanics of the barrier and would souls could be absorbed her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. Then he spoke slowly and haltingly of his decree, and she could finally take no more and jumped to her feet. "Are you trying to tell me, you thought you could buy your freedom with human lives and waltz into my office to call for a truce?!"

"No, no!" Papyrus insisted. "Such was not our aim at all! Well, we would like for things to be peaceful between us but we never wanted anyone to die!"

She pointed a shaking finger at Asgore. "This man _just said…_!"

"And at that moment, with my child's dust on my hands, I meant it. But time passes, anger fades. And when another child fell and was brought before me, I chose to go back on my word. I put the child in protective custody. I suspected there were some monsters who would not accept my change of heart. I… underestimated their resolve. The child was killed against my wishes. The murderer was never found."

"Mmmm- _hm_." She leaned back, arms crossed again. "That works out well for you, don't it? You get your soul and your hands stay clean. Lucky lucky. And lemme guess, you got lucky six more times?"

He caught the intended accusation but could not in truth dismiss it entirely. "Three. The sixth human was killed in self-defense. We have video footage of the incident. The seventh killed himself. The eighth survived and was delivered home safely."

The mayor's eyes went wide. "… Frisk Holder. The missing kid."

"We were trying to keep their name out of this. I believe it would be difficult for them if they were commonly known as the child who brought the monsters, and they have suffered enough."

"First smart thing you've said. And the others? They were all kids too?" Asgore's silence was all the answer she needed. "You can't expect me to be okay with dead kids. You can't expect _anyone_ to be okay with dead kids." She covered her face with her hands and groaned. When she dropped them her eyes had rolled up to stare at the ceiling. "I'm… going to call it for today. You've dumped an awful lot of garbage on my lap and it's going to take a while to get the smell out. We have to consider our next steps very carefully. Where are you staying? How can I reach you?"

Asgore answered, "We are staying with a human in the city. They do not want the address revealed but they are willing to speak with you privately. You do not need to worry about us escaping; it is not as though we can move without being noticed."

Papyrus tore out one of the pages of his notebook and held it out. "We can, however, be reached by telephone! Here's the number, feel free to call anytime!"

Wilma snatched the paper out of his hand with a huff. "Thank you. I'll call when I've had some time to discuss the situation with a few of my confidantes." She glowered at Asgore one more time. "Oh, and don't leave the area. There's a good chance this will turn into a criminal investigation. If it does you'd better come quietly."

"If it comes to that, I have every intention of throwing myself on your mercy."

"Oh yeah? Well don't expect much of it." She dismissed them with a wave of her hand, and Asgore took the hint. He thanked her for her time and beat a hasty retreat.

"That… wasn't what I expected. S-Still! I think it's an important first step! It was just the shock of it all. Mrs. Cole will come around, I'm sure!" It was clear from his voice that his optimism was feigned. Asgore had little reason to hope for better.

* * *

"H-How is it everyone?" Undyne said with a too-wide grin as everyone dug into the first meal she prepared on the surface. "I tried to put Toriel's lessons into practice, so I'm a little nervous about this."

From his place on the couch Papyrus said, "I think it's wonderful! It might be the best thing you've ever cooked, Undyne! I can only hope I can reach such culinary heights!"

"It is a little burnt," Toriel said as she examined a chunk of blackened pepper with a critical eye. She tossed it into her mouth and bit down with a loud crunch. After swallowing she amended, "But not hideously so. It is not bad for a first attempt. But it shows a lack of control with fire magic… you have gotten too used to using a stove, I imagine." The others at the table agreed.

"Ugh, got it in one," Undyne scratched the back of her head. "But I ain't giving up yet! Next time it'll be even better! So, how did your first day of school go kid?"

Frisk stirred their noodles with their left hand while propping their cheek with their fist, right elbow on the table. Things had not improved after the first worksheet. Mr. Moulton knew a little bit of science and math, so he actually tried to teach those. But Frisk had to pretend they spaced out during Reading so they would not get called on to read aloud. Recess should have been fun but it was excruciating; the other kids had already formed up into their little groups and were untrusting of any new kid that came up. It was a familiar story for them by now. They saw all the signs, all the same things were happening over again that would lead to Toriel and Silas throwing them out, but they could not see a way to stop it.

Frisk shrugged one shoulder. "Fine."

Toriel put a hand to her chest. That reaction… it was just like what Chara used to do when they were bothered but did not want to discuss why and thought they were better at concealing their emotions than they were. She recovered and asked, "A-and Silas, you started your job today, did you not? How was it?"

Silas gulped down a glass of water and touched his fingers against a napkin, before thinking better of it and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The self-defense client was the highlight of their day. After that were defendants who accused him of incompetent counsel before even getting to the plea, two people who didn't show up and had bench warrants issued for them, another assault case where the client had pushed hard for a "he needed killin'" defense, and tomorrow was looking no less busy or less stressful.

Silas squinted his eyes in an approximation of a smile. "Fine."

Undyne grimaced. "What about… that meeting you two had? You got good news for us?"

Papyrus hemmed and hawed with a litany of "Um, well, you see, that's the thing…"

The king gave a wan smile and answered for him, "As I believe humans say, it went 'fine'."

All of them sighed at once. Gloom fell like a curtain over everyone at the table. At precisely that moment the home telephone rang. Silas rolled his eyes and stood up from the table. "Always during dinner. This better not be a telemarketer, that would be the perfect capper to end my day." He motioned for quiet and picked up the phone. "Pembrooke residence."

"Hello!" came a cheery voice from the other end of the phone. It was an aged voice, though the high level of energy masked how old it was. "My name is Beatrice, Beatrice Lincoln. Have I reached the home where the monsters are staying?"

Beatrice? He knew they would have to speak with her eventually, she owned the land around Mt. Ebott the monsters would need to build homes on the surface, but why was she reaching out to him? And how did she know to find the monsters here? "Ma'am, I'm not sure-"

"Please don't insult my intelligence," Beatrice said without losing her sing-song tone. "The monsters gave this phone number to the mayor, and she gave it to me. I was a big contributor to her political campaign so she does me favors from time to time. Now, can you put King Asgore Dreemurr on the line? I happen to be the legal guardian of Lilly Randolph, a young girl who went missing almost thirty years ago. And if you don't mind I would dearly, _dearly_ love to speak to the man who murdered my niece."


	11. A Reckoning Comes Due

AN: Two chapters in one month! Haven't managed that in a while. This one's a little shorter than my recent chapters have been, but honestly I think shorter chapters more frequently might work better than longer ones that take months to finish.

* * *

 _Avery Campton only disappeared a few years ago, so there's a lot more readily available information about him despite his family being sort of reclusive. His parents bought a small plot of land up in the mountains and were trying to live "off the grid", sort of like what happened with you in the Ruins I think? I think that's how that idiom is used. The Camptons were distrustful of the government and tried to raise Avery to be self-sufficient, teaching him how to fish and farm and hunt. They taught him not to trust and to always take care of yourself, even if it meant hurting other people. One night Avery was unable to sleep and heard someone trying to break in through the window. He must have thought it was a burglar or home invader and shot him with a human weapon called a "gun". Avery killed the man trying to come into the house. Only, when he turned the lights on he realized the man who was trying to come in through the window was his own father. It later came out that he was meeting another woman in secret. On that night he accidentally locked himself out and tried to sneak back in. But Avery didn't know and never learned any of that; he ran away and was never heard from again. His mother still lives in the area and insists she hasn't given up hope of seeing him again._

 _Avery killed two monsters while he was in the underground: we know one of them was Doge, the Captain of the Royal Guard at the time. We aren't sure who the other was, not 100%, but Quilt's widow Karin disappeared around the same time. The going theory is that Karin blamed all humans for Quilt's death during Rebecca's massacre and sought out Avery in revenge. So both of his monster kills were in self-defense. But still, it must have eaten him alive… Sans said Avery died by his own hand and I believe him. Sans' LOVE is still 1, after all. The only thing Sans ever said about the incident is that Avery had three kills and a LOVE of 6 by the time he reached the hall, which checks out with what I gathered. We'd been going nuts trying to figure out who his third kill was, but it turns out it was his first kill after all. Ugh, I'm not trying to make light of this… it's horrible for a child to carry guilt like that around._

 _Um… I know this isn't the right place to talk about this, but Sans changed after that. He stopped all his personal projects, he stopped coming by the lab, he stopped trying to do anything. Personally I thought he was going to Fall Down any moment; he was that bad off. He moved out to Snowdin with his brother and hung up his labcoat for good. What really happened there? And why did he seem to just… lose all hope afterward? He never talked about it with me. I get the feeling you got to be pretty close to him, somehow… did he ever talk about it with you? I mean, if it was told to you in confidence I'll respect that! But… well, he was my colleague and friend. I'd like to know if there's anything I can do for him._

* * *

Silas became very quiet for a while after picking up the phone. From the table Asgore could hear someone speaking on the other end but not what they were saying. Silas let them talk without interruption, his eyes unfocused and staring at an uncertain point in the distance. Finally the voice on the other end stopped speaking. Silas said slowly, "One moment. I will get him on the line." He covered the receiver with his hand and called, "Asgore, it's for you. The woman on the line is Beatrice Lincoln, the woman who owns the land around Mt. Ebott. Also… she's the legal guardian of one of the kids who died." Puzzled, Asgore stood from his kneeling position and took the phone, his head ducked low to avoid scraping the ceiling with his horns. Silas tried to look Asgore in the face but found he was unable to.

Asgore screwed up his courage. He had hoped this day would not come so soon but there was no avoiding it. He tried to bring the phone up to his face only to realize the phone was too small compared to his head; if he held the receiver to his mouth he would not be able to hear, and if he held the phone to his ear his mouth was still a fair distance from the phone. He resolved to put it by his ear and see if Beatrice complained about him being too quiet. "Hello?"

"Ah, am I finally speaking to King Asgore Dreemurr? I'm Beatrice Lincoln, you killed my niece. The pleasure, I'm sure, is all yours." The voice on the other end was pleasantly cordial, in stark contrast to what she was actually saying.

Asgore's breath caught in his throat. "Ah, um. I am… immeasurably sorry for what happened. But I did not-"

"Semantics," came a disinterested reply. "You may not have killed her with your own hands, but you gave the order, yes? Someone else followed it? You can protest innocence all you like, it hardly matters at this point. More importantly, I'm not the only one you owe closure to. Six children are dead. Lilly Randolph, Wendell Sunapee, Tyrone Eaton, Skye Harris, Rebecca Troy, and Avery Campton. They left families behind: mothers, fathers, sisters, cousins. Oh! In a startling coincidence, would you believe their families are all going to be at my mansion tomorrow?"

"A… All of them?" Asgore felt panic freeze his face into a stiff mask. Even he could not miss the intended threat; the coincidence was too impossible.

Beatrice chuckled with all the friendliness of a spider. "Yes, the closest relatives of every child. I have been hosting gatherings every year or so of the ones left behind. A support group, I suppose you could say. Only this year, oh, this year will be one to remember. I cordially invite you to attend, your majesty, as the guest of honor."

Her intent was clear. The direction of this conversation was dangerous. Should he feign ignorance? No, that would only anger her. Attempt to deflect, then. Use Silas' plan. "Indeed. I, too have lost children-"

Beatrice ruthlessly cut him off, "Hm, yes, Asriel and Chara. About that. I've done a little study of my own, and you know what? No child went missing around Mt. Ebott in the year you claim. I even sent someone digging into the census records, and no child of that name was born anywhere near here in the state at the time they would have been born. As far as the state of New Hampshire is concerned there is no such person as Chara." She allowed a moment for her words to sink in. "Now, I'm not going to accuse you of inventing this person to garner sympathy. Neither would I dream of making light of the death of your son Asriel, or 'the White Beast' as we call him around here. But there is clearly something you either don't know or are intentionally concealing, and if I may offer a tip? Unless you are able to explain exactly what happened, in full, don't expect any of us to be swayed by your sob story. Shall we expect you tomorrow, King Dreemurr?"

"O-Oh." And just like that his defense blew apart. She had planned for his counterattack and defeated it with one blow. What else could he do? "In that case, I will meet with you all tomorrow. I am certain we can have a productive dialog."

"I am quite sure of that as well. Do you have a way to get here or shall I send someone to pick you up?"

"We have a driver that should suffice. I look forward to meeting with all of you."

This was the first thing Asgore had said that gave the woman on the other end pause. "You shouldn't, King Dreemurr." The line went dead with a beep.

Asgore weighed the phone in his hand before returning it to the cradle. When he turned everyone was looking at him, waiting for a sign of how it went. "Let me guess," Silas said with a pained face. "She wants you to come to a private meeting with the surviving family members of the other children, right?" Asgore nodded. "In other words, you'll be in a room with people you have greatly wronged, who hate your guts, with the full knowledge that no one on the surface will miss you if do not return from it. This is… not _literally_ the worst scenario, but it's very, very close. I had intended to play out your defense in the arena of public opinion, but instead your harshest critics will get to have the first crack at you before we can even try to get your side of the story out." He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed deeply. He did not try to continue for several seconds as he let the hopelessness of the situation sink in. "… My plan failed," he said at last. "I'm sorry. Now that it's come to this, we have to go fully defensive. You can't go to that meeting."

Asgore refused. "I must go."

The human pointed a finger at the monster king. "You _cannot_. Your people need you to lead them. If you go into that room, Asgore, you _will_ die. _"_

"If I do not I have no right to lead them. Besides, if I don't what is stopping them from revealing our existence and my crimes to the world at once? Wasn't that the exact scenario you sought to avoid?"

Silas took a breath and admitted, "Yes, it was. Damn it, there has to be something! Something I missed, some way to-"

"You've done enough," Asgore said with a smile. "You've done more than we had any right to expect. If this is the way it must be, I will accept the consequences of my own actions. You said it yourself, your plan failed. Now we do it my way. You may call me a poor king if you like, but never say I did not meet my end like one."

A chair clattered in the dining room. When they looked there Toriel was standing, her chair knocked over on the ground beside her, her face stricken with grief. "Asgore, no."

He met her gaze unflinchingly. "You can't talk me out of this. Don't try."

"I…" Toriel averted her eyes first, shrinking into herself. She found some hidden reserve of strength and stood straight, even as it made her horns knock some dust from the ceiling plaster loose. "Then take me with you."

"Absolutely not. Papyrus is the ambassador, he will accompany me there. You have no need to worry, he is quite good." While he would ordinarily soak up the praise, instead Papyrus appeared to be attempting to burrow between the couch cushions to avoid this conversation.

Toriel took a breath to steady herself. "Papyrus is… very good indeed. But I must insist. However much we disagreed, at the very least you have been a king these past thirty years. I have not been a queen at all. I have read the old texts, I know the ancient customs. The Kingdom of Monsters cannot be without a ruler for a single day. Should they kill you, I… I will take up my old role. I will lead in your stead. To do that I must see what we are facing with my own eyes. I must see how wide the gap of hatred has grown between humans and monsters. I may no longer be your wife, but I will not let you face this alone."

Asgore closed his eyes, and for a moment seemed like he would still insist on his way. He was king, it was his right, and he had been speaking like royalty since he got off the phone. "… If it comes to it, I will take all the blame. Do not hesitate to join them against me. You must survive. Of all of us, you are the most indispensable. Others can lead our people, but Frisk needs you and you alone."

Toriel closed her eyes, thinking of her newest child. Her ninth, including Asriel and Chara. The only one she still had a chance to save. She hated to agree with Asgore on anything, but this time he had the right of it. She could not abandon this child. "As you wish."

A loud bang resounded throughout the room. Undyne had smashed her fist into the counter, leaving a sizable crater in the formica. The corners of her lips were drawn back in a snarl. "What, we're all just going to accept this?! Hell no!"

"I understand your temper," Toriel admonished as she put her hands over Frisk's ears. "But please watch your language."

"It's okay Toriel," they said around a mouthful of bell pepper. "I already know all the dirty words."

"Even still."

Undyne slammed her fist into the counter again, causing the cracks to deepen. "Can we focus here? Asgore, you don't have to accept all the blame the humans want to throw on you. It's not like they're any better, they killed the prince for no reason! And what about the blue soul, huh? She killed a whole ton of monsters and we're just supposed to ignore that?!"

"Four of their children were killed before the blue soul even fell into the Underground," Asgore countered. "Her actions don't excuse the other five deaths, only one of whom killed any monsters at all and even then only to protect himself. There is no proof any of these families were involved in Asriel's death… how can his murder wash away the blood of six children who had nothing to do with it? No, we cannot make accusations back at these humans. Their grief is real, their anger legitimate. Toriel and I can handle the diplomacy. If they wish to strike me down, whether there is two or three of us will make no difference." Left unsaid was the rebuke: 'Your inability to control your temper will only make things worse.' Asgore was, of course, much too polite in his folksy way to say it aloud, but it was still understood by everyone there.

Undyne lowered her head, shoulders visibly shaking. "Are you telling me… I have to stand here and do nothing while my king goes into danger…?"

Asgore's expression softened. Undyne, the daughter he never had. So full of spirit and spunk. He always knew she would die for him, and the thought of him protecting her struck at her very soul. He clapped her on the shoulder, squeezing it with a fraction of his strength. "Power and fury, however righteous, will not win this fight. I will do my best to use the power of words, not the force of arms, to save my life. Have faith in me, as I've had faith in you. Remain here and wait for my safe return."

Undyne turned away, her good eye watering. She was shaking so badly one would think she might fall to pieces. Then her shuddering stopped. She fell down to one knee and bowed her head low. "So let it be done."

During the commotion Alphys had shuffled back to the computer. One would have been inclined to believe she had extricated herself from the awkward discussion before it became too heated. This assumption would have been wrong, however: Alphys waddled back into the fray with tiny steps and her head down to hand a thick ream of paper over to Toriel. "I-it doesn't have the section on Frisk yet, but… uh, here's the report on the other children. I have a, um, pretty high confidence in it. At the very least, you'll know the stories of the kids you're dealing with."

Toriel eyed the report before accepting it graciously. "Thank you. This will prove invaluable. Silas, I will take your recliner to read this. Everyone else, we may wish to finish early for the night; all of us have a long day tomorrow." Her proposal met no objections.

* * *

Frisk changed into their pajamas and crawled into bed, letting a distracted Toriel kiss them goodnight. As soon as they heard her go downstairs they turned to their ghostly companion. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Chara shook their head, their eyes glassy. "You didn't hear her, that woman Beatrice, on the phone. She's _evil_. She's going to chew up Asgore and spit him out. He can't win against her. You're sure you can't Load? If you try really, really hard maybe you can go back and try again." Frisk shook their head sadly. Chara could only laugh bitterly and turned their face away from Frisk. "Maybe it wouldn't help anyway. This was going to happen no matter what. Two kids can't hold back the tide." Drops of something black fell from Chara's face.

Frisk put their head on their pillow, clutching the corner of it tightly. Silas had said once that if Asgore died the rest of the monsters would follow suit. It now seemed almost certain Asgore would die tomorrow regardless of what Frisk tried to do. "Chara? Why'd we lose?"

Chara took a moment to reply. "Humans," they said. The word was thick and heavy with malice, dripping like the tar coming out of Chara's eyes. "This human, specifically."

Frisk's next line came automatically: "It's not your fault."

"If I hadn't killed myself, Asgore never would have made that decree, those other kids wouldn't have died, and the monsters wouldn't be in this mess. All I wanted was to give them a bright future. It took thirty one years for it all to play out, and the final result is that I took it away. Monsters have no future."

"That's not true," Frisk said, but Chara was not listening. They huddled into a ball and giggled, a high and shrill laugh. "Please, Chara, don't believe that. If… if you go away, if you get sad, I can't bring you back. So you can't, okay?" An idea came to them. Possibly a long shot, but they had to try. "You kept saying, what I did for you with the barrier wasn't a fair trade for the help you gave me. So… to make it even, you have to stay here. You can't go away. Please… don't leave me alone." Chara continued laughing as though Frisk had not said anything. Every second of it was torture: not only was it grating on the ears, but Frisk could feel every bit of sorrow and self-recrimination it was filled with. Their friend, someone they loved very deeply, was in such intense pain and they could do nothing about it. It made them feel small and useless, like they were somehow letting everyone but most especially Chara down.

It was several minutes before the laughter finally settled. A puddle of sludge had formed underneath Chara, runover from whatever leaked from their eyes in place of tears. Chara's wavering form sniffled and giggled every once in a while, but it appeared they did not have the energy for anything more.

Then, just before sleep took them, Frisk could have sworn they heard a tiny voice say: "… Your terms are accepted. So long as there's any hope at all, I won't disappear. Payment for services rendered."

* * *

Toriel stayed up well into the night to read the report Alphys provided to her, bitter tears welling in her eyes. To know that tragedy had struck children not once, but seven times (eight, for why else would Frisk climb a mountain no one returns from)? It was too much to bear. The world of humanity was too cruel. Each story was worse and more heartbreaking than the last. Lilly had stayed only a few days, cryptically saying she had to return "since everything should be taken care of by now". Marijane, she would only ever be Marijane to her, was a wonderful daughter. Her soul was blue when she first fell down, but through the years under Toriel's paw she became the most like a surrogate daughter of all the children, eventually even adopting her green soul. But when she got old enough to learn her body would start changing she despaired; she had to return to the human world to find a way to stop it and keep a body that matched her spirit. She had been the hardest to say goodbye to. Tyrone never gave her a chance, passing through on his quest to who-knew-where. She always wondered what his story was, and why Marijane seemed to dislike him so much. Skye was a boisterous young lad, very energetic and a bit of a roughhouser. She was disappointed but not surprised he left a trail of battered but very much alive monsters on his way to the capital. But Rebecca became a murderer? Not Rebecca, sweet little Rebecca, she could not have done those things. She could not have murdered innocent people including children. Was she not a blue soul, full of Integrity? Even after reading it she could not believe it. And Avery… such a haunted boy. She could tell there was a darkness in his soul the moment she saw him: she clearly remembered thinking, 'How awful, for a child so young to have gained LOVE. If even a child cannot maintain their innocence, how wonderful could the surface be?' Monsters could tell, vaguely, when someone had gained LOVE. It would take a machine or someone very sensitive to be able to tell exactly what their LOVE was, let alone the EXP at the heart of it, but 'a little, some, a lot' was not outside the capabilities of most monsters.

At some point in her reading she had fallen asleep, only realizing it when something heavy fell across her shoulders and startled her awake. "Miss Ex-Majesty," Papyrus said in an unusually quiet voice. He was leaning over her with a spare blanket in his hands. "I am sorry. I was only trying to make you more comfortable."

Toriel blinked herself awake and took stock of her surroundings. The dimmer switch in the kitchen was being utilized well, the overhead light putting off a faint orange glow. The rest of the monsters were laid out across the floor of the living room, only visible by their silhouettes. Asgore slept by the front door, his large furry body serving as a draft stopper. Alphys was curled up in a ball, cuddling the computer tower for warmth while breathing in an irregular rhythm. Undyne was in a sitting position behind the television set facing the door; she had mentioned when staking out her spot that she could see outside from this angle but was not in the line of fire if anyone tried to bust through the window. Toriel had found it an odd set of criteria but she supposed that was Undyne's way. Marty had taken the couch, putting a fitting sheet over himself instead of a regular one. He swore it felt cozier, but everyone including Silas thought him mad.

Toriel smiled. "It is fine, Papyrus. I have always been a light sleeper." She took the offered blanket and draped it over the armrest. "But should you not be getting sleep as well?"

"I already told you I don't sleep," Papyrus waved off. "Oh, you don't have to get up Miss Queen Toriel! Over the past few days I've come to realize other people do need sleep! I believe I owe my brother an apology when I see him again."

"It is fine, I have too much going through my head to fall back asleep. Perhaps I shall make some-" Not tea not tea _not tea_ just because she was living under the same roof as Asgore again was no excuse to fall back into her old habits. "-some warm milk. But… I am curious. Why don't you sleep?"

"Milk! An excellent choice, builds strong bones." His eternal grin made it difficult to tell whether he was making a joke or not. "I used to have terrible bouts of sleep-walking. One time I ended up going all the way to the CORE! It was dangerous to go so far, especially since Hotland doesn't have any guardrails. I decided I wouldn't sleep anymore if it was going to be so perilous, so I don't."

Toriel giggled, hiding her mouth behind her paw. "Yes, I can certainly see what that would be a problem. Oh, please do not fret, I am only laughing because you are safe and sound. It would be no laughing matter if something terrible had happened to you." Toriel doubted anyone could put off sleep just by wanting to, but she also did not think Papyrus was lying to her or trying to dodge the question. He really did not seem to know, prying deeper would prove fruitless. "So what do you do while everyone else rests?" She opened the fridge and took down a glass from the cupboard.

"Studying, mostly. In Snowdin I would learn advanced puzzle theory, with the occasional foray into quantum physics or jokes. Ah, don't tell Sans about that! He would never let me hear the end of it! Erm, since arriving in the surface I've neglected those studies in favor of the politics of the human world. They are quite fascinating. For instance, did you know they have a council that writes all the laws? And that they only meet once a week, ostensibly to work out compromises but mostly to yell at each other?"

Toriel raised an eyebrow as she poured herself some milk. "That seems… inefficient." Toriel held the glass of milk in her two paws, the barest hints of flame dancing around her claws. Milk had to be heated very slowly and carefully else it would burn easily.

"Oh, it is! When Asgore thought of a new rule he could write it into law in a few hours, while these guys take weeks to rename a post office! Of course, if Asgore wanted to raise the snowball tax there was nothing anyone could do about it. While here! Things take so long so everyone can contact their representative. In theory they are supposed to tell their congressman how they feel about things, how new laws will affect them, and what can be done to earn their trust and consolidate their continued support. In practice… I am seeing a lot of people send in threats to murder their representatives. Which is obviously wrong! Saying you're going to kill someone when you aren't is plainly lying, and that's an attack on the trust the whole system needs to function! It makes little sense, but sense of it I must make to fulfill my role as ambassador. Don't get me wrong, I am eminently up to the task! Only, even for someone as great as me, it will take quite some doing."

Toriel doused her flames and took a sip of her milk. She stared intently into the glass as the warmth flowed into her body. "Humans… are as intimately familiar with death as any of us. I wonder how they can talk about killing so openly and so freely. Silas believes Asgore will die tomorrow. Those parents hold him responsible for the children's deaths, and they will kill him for it. He seemed to think it a certainty. It is strange, for them to immediately think of killing someone who has wronged them, is it not?"

Papyrus' voice softened and he leaned forward sympathetically. "You still care for him."

"I do not wish him dead," Toriel clarified. She was unable to look Papyrus in the eye, however; her gaze drifted to the drawn blinds, attempting to see through them and to moonlight through sheer force of will. "We have a long history. From before I was old enough to know what love was my future had been decided: 'You are a Boss Monster, so when you are ready you will marry the King.' He never once came to visit me in my youth. I never saw him unless it was at a great distance during an announcement to the whole kingdom. I never knew him except as the distant concept of a man I would one day hand my entire future over to. He later told me he was nervous about the large difference in our ages and did not want to see me for the first time until I was grown. But there was no rush to meet him, no set time I was to give him my hand. Boss Monsters are nearly immortal, after all, and there was little danger anywhere in the Kingdom. So I made him wait while I lived a life of freedom. I was not allowed to have children, but other than that there is nothing the Underground would deny a future ruler. Hee hee, it may surprise you to know I was quite the 'wild one' before I became a Queen!

"I was an adult for well over a century before I deigned to marry him. At first I thought he was a useless fool, someone who sacrificed his own goals on the altar of his likability. But… I gradually came to realize how he was perceived by the populace was not his goal, merely a byproduct of his actual intent. He cared for all his subjects in a deep and personal way. He celebrated their joys, shared in their sorrows, and thought of every monster as part of his family. His kindness was not a cover for any nefarious activity, nor was it an attempt to paper over his own loneliness by being well liked. He simply… loved everyone. Honestly, simply, with no guile. I grew to admire that about him, and eventually to love him.

"Then he broke my trust. He used his grief as an excuse to declare war. He showed none of his kindness or patience then. It was as though I never really knew him. A part of me is still angry at him for that. But I cannot erase what we have been, and I cannot deny he made me very happy, for a time."

She laughed softly to herself. "Forgive me. I do not know why I am telling you all this."

"It's because you want to be talking to Sans, but Sans isn't here." It was not said with any reproach or resentment, merely a statement of fact.

She considered that and found herself nodding. "You are… probably right about that. That's very insightful, Papyrus."

"But of course! I have been practicing my listening skills, and soon they will be as good as my talking skills. Then. Then! I shall truly be a loquacious legend, a verbalizing force to be feared!" Toriel chuckled again, waiting until she was done before finishing off her milk. Papyrus tapped his phalanges on the counter, staring at the dent Undyne had left in it earlier that night. His tone dropped and became more serious, even pleading. "Miss Toriel? You knew Sans when he was younger, yes?"

Toriel rinsed out her glass in the sink. "I knew of him. His father Segoe worked in the lab, and he was friends with my children… well, more with Chara than with Asriel. I saw him on occasion but I did not know him well then. I certainly did not recognize him until he told me his name."

"What about me? Did you ever meet baby me, or have any stories about me?"

Toriel shook her head. "I apologize… you must have been born after I left. I did not know Segoe had another child, or even that he took another lover after the death of his husband."

Papyrus sighed, his eyesockets becoming droopy. "Oh. Oh, I see."

"Is something wrong?"

His eyesockets snapped back to normal. "No, not at all! It's… nothing, really. How is the milk? Is it working?"

Toriel suppressed a yawn. "Quite well indeed, thank you for listening to this old woman ramble. I will try to get a little bit more sleep. You know, your brother spoke so highly of you, Papyrus. I was sure he was exaggerating, but after meeting with you I see you really are as great as he said."

"It was no trouble at all! It helps break up the monotony of research a bit. Please, feel free to sample my goods and services anytime!"

Toriel nodded. "Good night, Papyrus." She carefully stepped her way back to the recliner and pulled the blanket over herself. From how comfortably she settled in and how easily she fell back asleep it was clear she did not hear the sniffles coming from where Asgore lay, nor did she notice the shimmer of moonlight on Undyne's open eye.

* * *

"Goodness!" Toriel said as the SUV approached Beatrice's mansion. And it really was a mansion; built on a hillside overlooking Weymouth there were few places in the city where it could not be seen. Three stories tall and wider than a school building, it could have comfortably housed several families inside. Did one woman really live in a place like that all by herself?

Asgore was also impressed. "I lived in a cozy little cottage; well, cozy for me. The governor, Silas' father, the mayor, Beatrice, it seems everyone we visit has such grand houses. Does everyone live so fine on the surface?"

"Only the people who actually matter," Marty said as he put the car into Park. "I'll be waiting out here. If things go bad don't expect me to rush in, you've got to get out here. I'm not much as cavalry but I bet I can make a mean getaway driver."

"Hopefully it will not come to that," Asgore said. "But we thank you for whatever assistance you can provide."

"Haven't done much so far, so give me the chance to be useful and I'll do it." Marty paused, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. "Hey, I'm not gonna jinx this by saying 'goodbye' or nothing, but… even with everything, I think you're a pretty cool guy Mister D. Do your best in there." Suddenly he blinked and his gaze shot up toward the house with a start.

Toriel turned to look in the same direction but nothing immediately suspicious came to her attention. "Is something wrong?"

"Nuthin'," Marty said, rubbing at his eye. "Nothing. Thought I saw a kid at the window for a second. Maybe the old bat has a grandchild or something. Or I'm just seeing things. Anyway, uh, good luck."

Toriel and Asgore both nodded as Marty pulled out his phone to waste time while he waited for them. There was a bald man with sunglasses and a dark suit waiting for them at the front door. He did not so much as flinch at the appearance of the two Boss Monsters, possibly the first time a human did not react in fear at Asgore's size. The man nodded and asked, "King Asgore Dreemurr? They're waiting for you inside. If you'll follow me…"

The interior of Beatrice's mansion was just as opulent as its outside. Fine rugs stretched across every hallway, every surface had been meticulously polished, and not a trace of dust could be found anywhere. Toriel marveled at some of the paintings on display, inwardly thinking this house seemed more like a museum than a place people actually lived in; Asgore noticed they were taking a circuitous route, going up one flight of stairs and going down half the length of the house before taking another set of stairs and doubling back. Was she trying to intimidate them by showing off her house? Or was this some form of petty revenge?

Finally the man opened a door and called without entering, "Miss Beatrice, the King of the Monsters Asgore Dreemurr and his guest have arrived." He then gestured the two of them inside.

The room appeared to be a study, bookshelves lining the side and back walls. A sizable space had been cleared out to make room for a fine but unadorned mahogany throne sized for Asgore's ample dimensions. Several men and woman sat in a rough semi-circle facing the throne on relatively modest chairs. At the center of them all, sitting behind an oak desk, was an old woman with thinning white hair tied in a single bun. Time had left its mark on her cracked lips and wrinkled brow, but her eyes continued to shine with the power and vitality of someone much younger. Her face was gaunt but a tiny smile graced it. She would have appeared matronly were it not for the palpable aura of danger around her. Toriel needed none of Doctor Gaster's equipment to know what it was: LOVE, low but not 1. This woman had killed before. The old woman did not rise to offer a handshake but greeted them warmly, "Ah, I assume you are King Asgore Dreemurr. Beatrice Lincoln, we spoke on the phone."

Asgore nodded. "I recognize your voice as well. Thank you for the invitation, it was quite generous of you. Despite, er, the circumstances."

" _Because of_ the circumstances. I have made many enemies and bested nearly all of them over the years, and if there's one thing I've learned to enjoy it's the sight of a defeated rival swaying in the wind. But where are my manners? I should introduce you to the rest of our gathering." She indicated the two men sitting together. "The Troy family, Michael and Isaac. Their daughter vanished seven years ago." They both nodded their heads, expressions carefully neutral. Next to them were a man and a woman, sitting near each other but more noticeably apart than the other couple, grief on their faces. They tried to smile but their eyes were too wet for it to carry over. "The Sunapee family. Their child fled into the neighborhood seventeen years ago." On the opposite side of Beatrice's desk was a young woman with dark brown skin, arms crossed and looking at them only out of the corner of her eye."This is Shakira Eaton, sister of Tyrone Eaton. Her brother vanished fourteen years ago." She made no movement to accompany the introduction, not a curtsy or wave or even perfunctory nod of the head. Other than the monsters she was clearly the person who least wanted to be here. "Next to her is Skye's mother Penny. Her son took that ill-fated dare ten years ago." Penny Harris was a rail-thin woman whose gaze was focused on her hands. She looked up only briefly and her lips pulled taut for a split second in lieu of a smile. "And-"

"Me?" said the last woman, dressed in a flannel shirt with sun-damaged wrinkles around her eyes and blonde hair turning platinum from over-exposure. "Ahm the mean-ass bitch who's gonna shoot ya dead when the rest of 'em are done pickin' your bones. You killed my boy Avery two years ago." She glared a million daggers at Asgore, each one tipped with acid. Despite her threat she did not have the feel of non-zero EXP that Beatrice had.

Beatrice gave a maternal sigh and continued as if the outburst never happened, "… and the widow Campton. As for me, my niece Lilly disappeared twenty four years ago. Now that we've all been introduced, Mr. Dreemurr, who is the… woman, by your side?"

Toriel stiffened. Could she honestly not tell, or was she slighting her in some way? "I am Toriel. Formerly the Queen, I resigned my position after-"

Beatrice raised a hand to stop her. "After what, you need not specify. If it is the event we think it is no explanation is necessary. If it is not it does you no good to correct our misunderstanding. But why are you here, if you have no official power?"

"… I knew each of your children, for a little or a long while. I tried to raise them and protect them as best I could. In a way, we are here today because I failed to do so. I believe the only right thing to do is tell you what I learned of them, cold comfort though it may be."

Beatrice made a hand motion and nodded. "So one of you can tell us how they lived, and the other can tell us how they died. Very good, all very good." The door shut behind them with the echoing thunk of a coffin lid. Beatrice indicated the large throne. "Have a seat, Mr. Dreemurr. Toriel, take the couch. We all have a lot to talk about, it could take quite a while. I would not want either of you to get… uncomfortable." Toriel expected Beatrice's smile to widen into a wolfish grin; that it did not made her somehow all the more unsettling.


	12. The Dead and the Living, Part 1

AN: I missed the first anniversary of the story, but at least I managed this update in time for my birthday. How about next year I average better than 1 update a month?

* * *

"Sans! Sans! We found something big!"

"(Really, really big! You have to come right away!)"

Sans snapped himself awake, knocking himself on the side of the head. He had fallen asleep on his feet again. He tried taking a nap inside the coffin but it was not comfortable at all, so he had propped himself up in a corner of Asgore's basement and let Dogamy and Dogaressa do their thing. Seemed it was time for him to supervise after all. "alright, what's the scoop?"

"(We have to show you!)"

"We really can't explain it! Come on! To the barrier room!" Without waiting for a response the Dogi bounded up the stairs.

Ugh, walking. He wasn't about to put up with that. He changed his parameters so his current location was the former barrier room, and before he could blink he was there. It had been cleaned up a little since Susan and Undyne's visit, new plaster filling the Undyne-shaped hole and crude wooden guardrails posted alongside the rough picture window overlooking the city. There was still a bit of debris and battle damage left over from whatever the kid did with the flower. The most obvious difference, though, was that a portion of the right wall had slid away, revealing an unlit metallic passageway a few feet wide and three meters tall. He peered into the gloom but no answers were forthcoming from here. What in the heck…?

As he wondered this the Dogi barged into the room. "Hey! How'd you beat us here?"

"knew a shortcut." Sans thrust a thumb back at the new passageway. "how'd you guys miss this?"

Dogaressa's eyebrows arched as she explained, "(How'd we find it, is what you should be asking. It looked like a normal wall, but we found strange smells that seemed to lead right to that part of the wall.)"

"It took a bit of doing, but we managed to find a spot where the wall was hollow! We combined our strength and forced the doors open with the power of our love! But also our axes. If we're being honest, it was mostly our axes." He held up his axe to show the sizable chip along the blade. The eye on the axe watered, a single tear forming at its corner.

Sans poked his head inside the passageway. As soon as he did emergency lights flickered on at the corners of the hall, noting where the walls were and bathing him in an eerie red glow. The passageway continued on for about forty feet before making a right turn. "you been down here yet?"

"No sir!"

"(It looked like whatever would be at the end would be above our pay grade. Do you think Dr. Alphys made this?)"

"nah, alph doesn't have the motivation for something this elaborate. not to mention she never would have been able to sneak past asgore to install it all. come along, and keep your axes handy." No, Sans already knew only one person would have been crazy enough to put a secret passage in the barrier room.

The hallway turned twice and opened into a large chamber dominated by a central pillar. The pillar had a series of screens along its circumference near the ceiling, tiled so that at least one monitor was visible no matter where one stood in the room. The pillar had open circuitry and a number of lights along its surface, and all around it a waist-high table had been erected. A thin layer of dust covered the table, save for a rectangle-shaped clean spot the size of standard 8 1/2 - 11 paper. Branching out from the main chamber were six rooms, the doors left open on two of them and the other four closed. Each room contained an empty circular glass tank large enough to hold a person, as long as they were not too big. Hoses and pipes snaked out of the top of each tank and connected to the ceiling, where they led to parts unknown. The rooms also had a full length mirror next to a coat hanger on the wall, and each coat hangar had a towel draped on it.

"(What… on earth…?)"

A sentiment Sans had to agree with. "somebody sure was busy here. then they weren't for a while, but somebody poked around more recently. you said there was a strange smell?"

"Yeah. It smells like… science."

"huh. and the trail led here?"

"(The trail _came from_ here. It leads outside. We might still be able to follow it, if we weren't given strict orders by Cap- I mean, by Undyne not to leave the Underground. And, well, it's a couple days old now.)" That was probably bad. A monster they didn't know about on the outside could cause a scare nobody needed right now.

Dogamy looked around warily, sniffing the central pillar suspiciously. "Any idea what all this could be for?"

"beats me. i've never seen anything like thi-"

Wait a minute. He _had_ seen these tanks before. Not in person, no, but the designs for them were scribbled in the margins of… of something. A similar kind of tank, yes!, but much smaller, intended to hold and preserve a human soul. Dr. Gaster had shown the plans for the soul containers to him once, he remembered himself asking about these other bluprints, but Gaster blew him off. Just a doodle, he had signed. A thought experiment inspired by his work with the soul canisters. Something he could cobble together if he ever decided…

If he ever decided… he needed to…

"shit." Sans bolted out of the room and down the hall, elbowing Dogamy out of the way. "Shit! We gotta get to Asgore, now!"

"Sans!"

"(What's going on?)"

He barreled down the corridor, struggling for his legs to keep up with the rest of his body. He tried to turn when he reached the bend in the corridor but his foot slipped on something. Damn it, no! Not now! He braced himself against the wall with one hand and slid right down it, leaving a wet white streak on the wall where his palm touched. He hit the ground with less of a thud and more of a splat. Ooooooh, this was a bad one, he could actually feel his ribs flatten against the floor. That's what he got for getting too excited all at once after holding it in for so long. He took deep ragged breaths and tried to fight against the urge to hold himself together. It was an instinctual reaction and understandable in the circumstances but it would only make things worse.

It did not take long for the Dogi to catch up to him. Dogamy knelt down and cradled Sans' head in his hands, no hesitation, not caring that some of Sans' skull was going to be in his fur now and would take forever to get out. "Sans, take a few deep breaths. Let it out. Just rest for now, whatever's so important can wait." Yeah, of course they would know how to handle a C3 attack, Undyne herself had it and she was a lot less careful about managing her condition. But if they knew all that, couldn't they guess how important it was for Sans to let his control slip?

"Gotta get to them," he forced through his throat. No, let it go, let the tension out. Give the stress up. He felt his bones get more solid, the fire in his chest subsided. His eye was glowing, he could tell from the soft cyan and yellow reflections off the metal walls of the corridor, but he would worry about the questions that would provoke later. "they have to know."

"We can't descend the mountain, Sans! Even if we could, we have no idea where the King and the former Captain are now! We'd never reach them safely."

"(What is so important?)"

Sans put one hand on Dogaressa's shoulder, ignoring the wince of disgust as a goopy residue deposited itself in her fur. "listen. i'll be alright, this'll pass, so just listen. anything you can do, anything you can try, you've got to let them know. what i saw in that lab, if i'm right, it changes everything. i know…" He paused to take a few breaths.

"What is it?"

"(What do you know now?)"

He looked up to face them, his left eye burning with light. "i know what happened to the bodies."

* * *

Since arriving in the human world Asgore had to deal with everything being a touch too small for him, the ceilings a bit too low, the quarters a bit too cramped. The throne he was in now, by contrast, was sized perfectly for him, and it felt nice to stretch his legs. It was odd that Beatrice had the time to have it custom made considering she did not know he existed until about this time yesterday, but his understanding was that Beatrice was rich beyond anything the entire kingdom could imagine. Many things, even production bottlenecks, would bend to those with money.

Beatrice was clearly the ringleader of the gang consisting of the men and women whose children were fed to the mountain so the monsters could be free. She spearheaded the discussion, "Considering Ms. Campton's temper I believe we should save Avery's story for last. Because of that, it stands to reason we should proceed in the order in which our children disappeared. Does that sound fair?" The parents and the one sister agreed without much discussion. Patience first. "Very well. My niece, Lilly Thompson. I have reason to believe she disappeared on purpose and fell into the underground on accident. Can you confirm or deny?"

She stared at Asgore for the answer but it was Toriel who spoke first: "I found her wandering the Ruins in the deepest part of the underground. I brought her home and healed her injuries, and when she was feeling better she showed me exactly where she fell from. She described it as a wide, deep hole in the middle of a cave. It seemed like quite a fall; she apologized for ruining my flowerbed, but perhaps the loose soil helped break her fall and those of the others."

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. "Others? You mean to say…?"

"Yes, all of the children entered through the exact same way. This was fortunate; I never would have met them all otherwise."

"Flowerbed?" one of the Troy husbands asked. "You grew flowers underground?"

Something caught in Toriel's throat. "No… Asgore was always the one with the green thumb. All I did was water them occasionally once they sprouted, but that was enough. Golden flowers grew in one spot in the Ruins, the place where Chara fell… and where I buried them, after they died. In a way tended to the flowers kept them in my memory."

Asgore saw Beatrice's face twitch but she said nothing. She had made her opinion on Chara clear during their phone call, but she did not pursue her line of inquiry face to face. Was she going easier on Toriel? Or did she somehow sense Toriel would not let her objection go as easily as Asgore did? The other parents nodded respectfully with sympathetic smiles on their faces… all except Mary Campton, who was still staring intently at Asgore while tapping two fingers against the pistol hung at her hip.

Toriel continued, "Lilly stayed a few days, then asked to be let out into the remainder of the Underground. She was… utterly self-confident. That must have been why I let her go; when she insisted she would find a way to leave it was impossible to not believe her. I cannot confirm nor deny she ran away on purpose, she did not confide in me to that extent. But she was a very clever girl, so it would not be odd for her to have had some plan in mind."

Beatrice nodded slowly as if none of this was any surprise to her. "I see. But yet she was wrong. King Dreemurr, your turn. How did she die?"

Asgore rubbed his paws together, tapping one foot nervously. "I did not see the deed done myself. I met Lilly only for a brief moment. She traveled through the Underground apparently without incident. I did not know of her arrival until my Judge brought her to me-"

"Wait." Beatrice held up a hand. "Your… Judge?"

"His name was Dr. Wing Din Gaster. His job was to examine how the human acted on their way to the castle and determine whether they deserved mercy." He could sense Beatrice ready to pounce and decided to blunt her attack with honesty: "I was a coward." Asgore lifted his head and met Beatrice's eyes. "I had no will to carry out my own proclamation. My hope was that a human with an evil heart would be killed by my Judge, sparing me from having to do it myself."

Beatrice chuckled to herself. "You truly are a wretch," she mused. Odd… there did not seem to be any genuine malice in her tone of voice. There was a strange disconnect between what she said and what she meant that was keeping him from either relaxing or becoming too tense. "So the Judge killed my niece?"

And Asgore told her a story:

* * *

" _Just a minute," Asgore said cheerily as two sets of footsteps sounded behind him. "I just have to take care of these weeds…" He pulled out a particularly pernicious set of crabgrass and burned it on the spot, wiping his hands free of dirt. He got up off his knee and rose to his full height, preparing a friendly smile. "Now, what can I-"_

 _Standing in the doorway were two figures. The familiar one was a skeleton nearly as tall as Asgore in a white labcoat. That was Dr. Wing Din Gaster. The other, unfamiliar one, was much shorter with pale skin, long blonde hair, and a pale blue dress. She had two arms and two legs, though her hands were bound at the wrists in thick rope. The other end of the rope was being held by a disembodied skeletal hand with a hole in the middle of it._ If you're quite finished, _Gaster signed with his actual hands._ There is a human soul here for you to harvest. This isn't pleasant for any of us, so come on and hurry it up.

 _She looked up at him with a weary expression and sunken eyes. She seemed mentally and physically exhausted, her eyes utterly devoid of hope or life. If he pulled out his trident and ran her through she would probably not even utter a cry of protest or pain. The thought made his heart ache. This is what his proclamation meant. He said he would kill her. He promised to kill her. Not just her, but the next six humans to fall after her as well. Would they all be children? Would he have to kill seven children who reminded him so much of Chara? Was his integrity so important to him that he would keep a promise he no longer wished to keep? Or would he hold onto his morals, knowing he would be stealing the last hope of monsters?_

 _Faced with reality, he did the bravest and most cowardly thing he could. He turned away. "Bring her to the cells," Asgore ordered. "Lock her up. Make sure no unauthorized person comes to see her, but also that she is comfortable and well-cared for. No one is to harm her, do I make myself clear?"_

 _The girl brightened up just the tiniest bit. Gaster, however, was much less amused. His eyelights burned with a fierce white light, and a sound like sand being poured out of a bucket squeezed through his clenched teeth._ Are you serious? _he signed._ This is what we have been waiting for. You have a duty to your people, a duty as a king! If you will not kill the humans for their souls, who will?

 _Perhaps no one, and everyone would be better for it. Asgore tamped that treasonous thought down and said, "There is no need for us to kill her now. We need seven souls to break the barrier, yes? Whether she dies now or when there are seven humans makes no difference in the end, so let us spare her for now." Perhaps he would find a way to break the barrier without killing any of them, given time, but he would keep that hope close to his chest for now._

 _For a moment Gaster looked like he would not accept the explanation. His fists clenched tightly and his shoulders vibrated from barely suppressed rage. Finally, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath._ Your wisdom, as always, is unimpeachable. I must insist, however, the opportunity to design and build a cell which will safely capture her soul should she die unexpectedly or commit suicide. Not that any of us want such a thing to happen, but… well, it would be best to prepare for anything. It should only take a few days.

 _Asgore nodded and rubbed his chin. "Yes, you make a good point. Very well, begin your work."_

 _Gaster turned and walked back out through the arch to the Last Hallway. The human gave him a tiny smile and said appreciatively, "You're not anything like she said you'd be." Then the hand holding her rope tugged hard, pulling her away and following Dr. Gaster._

* * *

"That was the only time I ever saw or spoke with your niece. Gaster finished his work, and she died less than a week after being moved there."

Beatrice tapped a fingernail against her desk. "So you attempted to spare her. But it didn't work."

Asgore nodded. "She was found dead in her cell one morning, on her bed like she was resting. There was no damage to her body but her soul was safely preserved. I immediately suspected magic as the murder weapon and ordered the assassin be found, but the search was fruitless. Dr. Gaster urged me to absorb the soul immediately and kill humans on the surface for the remaining ones we needed. Again I put it off, insisting we needed more time to prepare. He disagreed with me vehemently but only in private; he was a very traditional monster with deep loyalty to the crown. While he voiced his disapproval he bowed to my wishes in all respects, and he acted no differently then." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary Campton, mother of the Justice soul, shaking her head with a sour look on her face.

A dark shadow fell over Beatrice. She tapped her fingers against her desk and her smile waned to the tiniest curve. "Is it not possible this 'Dr. Gaster' murdered her?"

"That was the going theory," Asgore explained. "I pursued that avenue of inquiry as well as I was able. But despite his genius and cunning, Gaster did not have many friends and even fewer allies. There were absolutely no associates he could ask to murder a human on his behalf, of this I am certain. He could not have involved himself directly, and he had no avenue of killing them indirectly." He did not say the only evidence of Gaster's innocence was his stubborn LOVE of 1. He hoped Beatrice did not press the issue; he doubted he would be able to explain that no, there was no way to kill someone with your own hands without gaining EXP, at least not in a way she would be able to accept.

In a rare show of grace Beatrice sighed and took Asgore at his word. "Well. I am disappointed to hear my niece laid down and surrendered, after everything she did to make it that far. I thought better of her. But you have no reason to lie about this if you're going to admit the truth everywhere else. And I do think you're telling the truth; you lack guile, King Dreemurr, which is a critical weakness for a ruler but I'll happily take advantage of it. Very well, I am finished for now."

The Sunapees barged in on the invitation, ""Uh, um-!"" They looked to each other, suppressing a wince, before Ms. Amanda Sunapee asked, "Our daughter. Did she ever… pick out a new name for herself?"

Toriel nodded. "She told me her name was Marijane. Is it common for children to choose their own names? I believe Chara may have done so as well."

Amanda smiled. "It is not common, no. Would that it were or she would not have been so strange to us. I wish we could have been more like you. She told you what she was and you accepted it without question."

The boss monster blinked several times. "That's how it is and has always been for monsters. It is but a trifle." Then she paused. "She was very angry, for a time. She asked about human gender and why it was so complicated even grown-ups could not understand. But I am not a human. Before Chara I had never seen a human in the flesh. I had no answers for her. Sometimes she cursed you, yes, but there were many more times that she was morose and downhearted, and I knew it was those times that she missed you. And more times still when she screamed and cried because she knew in her heart she would never see her parents again. She never told me so, but I believe she forgave you in time."

The Sunapees looked at each other with wet smiles and a single clasp of the hand. "Thank you. We… seperated after she ran away," Mr. Brian Sunapee explained. "Each of us blamed the other. It took a long time for us to accept that we drove her away. We just… didn't think a child so small would have it in her. How was she? Did you make her happy?"

Toriel let herself think back to Marijane's smiling face, her earnest appreciation, the way her joy for life and trust in others revealed themselves like a flower unfurling its petals after a long cold night. "She was… the hardest to say goodbye to. I kept her safe for five years, and would have never let her go if I could have. She was the only one to believe me when I told her the rest of the Underground may not be safe for humans. I taught her to cook, and to sew, and to be useful around the home. In fact, she stayed so long that a different human child left the ruins before she did. That would be… Tyrone, I believe." She looked over to the sister who outlived her brother. "I did not know his name before last night. I saw him only for a single moment; he had no time for me or for my home in the Ruins. He-"

"Look lady," Shakira Eaton cut her off. "You don't have to say nothing to me. He was my big bro, a'ight? We were all we had, we were supposed to look out for each other, and he dropped me the second he couldn't hack it. He got his own dumb ass killed, and I ain't wasting any tears on him. Far as I'm concerned if him being dead did some good for you, well, at least _some_ body got _some_ thin' out of him."

Toriel swallowed, sharing a look with Asgore. "That seems harsh."

The dark-skinned woman shrugged. "Yeah? Well it's the truth. Can I go now?"

"Not yet," Beatrice insisted. "I feel there is still much more we can get out of these two. You may continue, Brian."

Brian Sunapee nodded. "Yes, please. You were speaking of… Marijane? How did… how did she die, Mr. Dreemurr?"

His turn again. He took a deep breath. "Marijane surrendered to Gaster and I had her placed in protective custody. She received only one visitor during her time there…"

* * *

This is quite unnecessary, _the fire elemental signed to him._ Certainly there are others who could do this, instead of having a king do the menial job of translation.

" _It is the least I can do," he explained as he unlocked the solid wooden door. "I am doing her a grave disservice by keeping her here, the least I can do is face her directly. Besides, you stressed the need to hurry. It would take time to summon another translator and I am perfectly up to the task." The elemental accepted this without another word. They passed through two more locked doors before finally reaching a cell. Iron bars prevented anyone from getting more than a couple steps into this room; the rest of it was devoted to living quarters for the human occupant. The layout was spartan, with a couch for lying down on and a bookcase with various histories and little else. There was an alcove the occupant could duck into for privacy but every other inch of the cell was clearly visible from the outside._

 _Said occupant was a human girl of about thirteen years old. She was quite pretty, although her cheekbones protruded awkwardly. The girl looked up with sallow eyes, but her expression brightened on seeing her visitor. "Grillby!" she cooed, rushing to the bars. "Are you here to spring me?"_

 _The fire elemental shook his head sadly._ Would that I could, child. I certainly owe you that much for your part in bringing me together with Homura, especially when I was so awful toward you. _Asgore translated what Grillby was saying, providing the necessary inflection. He had to try three times to pronounce Homura's name correctly, Grillby shaking his head when he got it wrong and shrugging his shoulders when he apparently got close enough._

 _The girl's eyes went wide and then flicked toward Asgore. "Are you sure you should be talking… in front of…"_

You are always thinking of others, child, _Grilly replied._ It is a good trait to have, but I have nothing to fear from the king. And, I cannot wait for anyone else to arrive. My employer is very angry. My future wife and I must flee the capital tonight. I may have already stayed too late, but when I learned of your imprisonment I had to at least say goodbye in person.

 _The human gave him a serene smile. "I would hate to cause any trouble for you, and I'll probably be here for a long time. But… thank you. It means a lot to me that I made at least one friend willing to visit."_

 _The flames of the elemental crackled in what might have been a chuckle._ If you are ever have a chance to visit Snowdin, come find us. I believe I will settle down and open a tavern there.

" _I would like that a lot," she said wistfully, looking up at Asgore. For permission?_

 _Asgore coughed. "I'm sure a visit could be arranged, with supervision of course."_

 _The human brightened noticeably. Grillby bowed to Asgore and signed,_ I shall send word as soon as we are ready for customers. Until then, be safe young one. _He then turned and walked out ahead of Asgore._

" _Grillby and I fought," the human explained. "He tried to kill me on my way here, but I could tell he wasn't a bad person. I got him and a really big ogre-lady to confess their love for each other, and after that he didn't want to fight any more."_

 _Asgore nodded. "You have a kind heart, child. It sounds as though you changed his life for the better."_

 _She studied him for a moment, thinking. "You're not a bad person, either."_

 _It physically hurt to keep his smile going. "I'm glad at least one of us thinks so."_

* * *

Asgore finished his story with a sigh. "Two days later she was killed in the night, like the others before her. By this time I was frustrated; the same murder committed the same way pointed to a single perpetrator, but I was powerless to catch them in the act or protect the humans."

"Having one prisoner die in your care is unfortunate," Beatrice said icily. "Six deaths is negligence."

"Only four died in-"

"And do you really think that distinction helps you? Never mind. Then how did Tyrone die?"

"Like Lilly before him, he was brought to me by Wing Din Gaster. He remembered what happened with Lilly and insisted I kill the human myself. Again I refused; I ordered a cell to be cleared out in the capital and the child kept in solitary confinement. It was a large cell, with privacy available in certain rooms, but the main area of the cell was viewable from the outside at any time. In this way I thought he would be safe; if the first child was killed because they were kept too secret, perhaps the second would be safe if anyone could see an attempted murder at any time. But… this failed. Once again I awoke to find a child dead and their soul collected. Again I put off visiting the surface. I am sorry I do not have more for you, Ms. Eaton, but it seemed Tyrone wished to leave as little of a mark on the Underground as possible."

"If that ain't the-!" Mary stood up and shouted, "You don't really believe a word he's is sayin', do ya? 'We had to do it 'cause of the barrier'? Don't you think we woulda known about this 'barrier' if it existed? Who's to say they even live on Mt. Ebott, they could have been kidnappin' folks fer-"

Beatrice stepped on that argument: "I have not sent anyone to investigate directly, but I have had people confirm the existence of a cave opening in Mt. Ebott which is easily visible to binoculars. These same people swear they have hiked Mt. Ebott several times and have never seen it before. It is possible the barrier had some way of concealing its presence; making itself look like a normal rock wall so no one would approach and be trapped underground. It does not explain how the children passed through, but since magic is on the table we might as well give credence to even the most apparently outlandish suggestions."

Something tickled at Asgore's mind. Something was strange about what Beatrice said. Nothing wrong or incorrect, he did not think she was lying, but something… and then Beatrice prodded the next person to speak and the thought was gone.

Penny Harris' voice squeaked like a leaky balloon, and she kept her head down and her focus on Asgore's midsection while she was talking. Her thinning brown hair was going prematurely gray, and her lips barely moved as she spoke. "Skye was… his father's son. His first choice of name was 'Michelle'… he thought giving Skye a girl's name would make kids pick on him more and 'toughen him up'. H-He was always like that, trying to make his son strong and manly. I worried for Skye, but… his father never hit either of us, alright? I feel like you should know that. He wasn't a good father and he was a worse husband but he… he never wanted to be a bad man." Mary Campton's expression softened for the first time that afternoon as she put a comforting hand on Penny's shoulder. Penny nodded and squeezed Mary's hand to reassure her. "He was nothing without his boy; he used to be difficult to deal with, but it was like all his fire left him. He would wander around the house in a daze, he blew off poker night with his friends. He'd still watch his sports and his news shows but he stopped enjoying them. He died a few years later… heart failure. And I've been alone in that big house ever since."

Toriel's eyes watered. "Oh, my poor dear…" She knew what it was like to live in a cold and empty house. Too, too well.

Penny gave a wan smile. "It's… it's been better, since. I was a wreck, for a while, but I feel like I'm finally moving on. I don't hate you, Mr. Dreemurr. And I don't want you to die. But please, both of you, tell me what happened to my son."

Toriel nodded, regaining her composure. "Very well. Skye did not stay with me long. Like Lilly he departed after only a few days. He was… well! Rambunctious and full of energy. After only a few hours I could tell I would never be able to hold him. He would outgrow the Ruins almost instantly. Still, I prepared him for his journey the best I could."

* * *

" _You have everything now?" Toriel fretted. "I won't be able to open the door for you once you leave, and it is quite some distance to Snowdin Town."_

 _The human made one last check, nodding his head. "New shoes, new coat, got a slice of pie and water in my pack… and yeah! My lucky bandanna and these sweet gloves you made for me!" He punched one hand with the other and reveled in the sharp, crisp sound it made on impact. "Anyone who messes with me is gonna get_ wrecked! _"_

" _I admire your exuberance," she said guardedly. "But please do not forget that monsters, even ones who follow Asgore, deserve mercy too."_

" _I ain't gonna kill anyone, don't worry. If they're after my soul, though, I'm gonna show him who's boss."_

 _She was dismayed at how awfully certain he seemed that he would not kill anyone but supposed that was the best she was going to get out of him. "Would you like a hug before you leave?"_

" _My dad says real men don't say goodbye with hugs and tears. They're supposed to just… walk away into the sunset with a wave over their shoulder." His smile faded and a sheen of water covered his eyes. "You won't tell 'im, right?"_

 _Toriel knelt down and opened her arms and the human came barreling into her. He very nearly knocked her over but she managed to right herself and hug him back. His grip was very strong and she could feel her robes get moist. "I would never do anything to get you in trouble," she said sadly. "You should never be sorry to show how you feel. No matter what that oaf you call your father says, shedding tears does not make you less of a man." Indeed, in the good days Asgore cried a lot. She never thought of him as weak for it. It was rather the opposite: It was when he refused to cry, when he gave in to anger, that everything fell apart._

 _The human pulled away and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Thank you, Toriel. I… I've needed to hear that for a long time. And coming from you, I think I can believe it too." He gave her a thumbs-up and a wide grin. "Just you wait, you'll hear of me all the way back here as the first human to cross back through the barrier!" He ran for the doors and pulled them open. And just like that he was gone._

* * *

"He was a born fighter. I believed if anyone could make it through to the barrier, he could. I hoped he could. But I was wrong."

Penny listened intently, nodding. "That sounds like Skye. Mr. Asgore? Did you see him at all?"

Asgore took a breath. "I certainly heard of him. I received reports of a strange monster making a beeline for the capital. From the description of him I knew it was another human, but it seemed the previous humans had kept such a low profile none of my subjects recognized one. They, er, said the human was challenging everyone he met to a fight and… beating them up." He winced as he said this last part.

Penny inhaled through her nose. "That… also sounds like Skye," she admitted with an apologetic tone. "This… may sound strange, in the circumstances, but I hope he did not cause too much trouble for you."

"He did not exactly make many friends, but bruises heal. Nothing he did was unforgivable. But by the time I saw him all the fight had left him. He had his head down and shuffled like he had not slept in days. I promised I would protect him, and the only thing he said was, 'Liar.' And, well, he was right. My Captain of the Royal Guard, Quilt, took Skye's death personally; she was on duty at the time of his death, and resigned due to her failure to protect him. Other than that his death was like the others… at night, done in secrecy, no clues to his killer."

"Is that all?" Beatrice asked. Asgore answered with a slow nod, dreading what would come next.

The Troy fathers had no such unease, realizing it was their turn to hear about their daughter. "Then, Rebecca!" Kyle said. "Tell us about Rebecca, both of you!"

Toriel nodded. "I remember the day she came to me very well. I found her unconscious in the field of flowers and took her home. I did what I could for her injuries, but I found it odd that her ankle refused to fully heal. At the time I was confused, but she explained to me her injury was permanent. That is, unfortunately, one of the limits of healing magic; all it does is provide energy for the body to heal itself, so diseases, fatal injuries, and incurable ailments are beyond its power. Magic and monster food could provide temporary relief but healing her injury was beyond me. She stayed with me for a year, hoping despite everything she knew that my magic could heal her leg and help her dance again. At last she gave up and insisted on being allowed out. As for the rest… Asgore." She had meant for it to come out as a stinging command, but the name fell limply from her mouth and ended up sounding more like an apology.

Asgore said, "I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you this. It may be difficult to hear. But Rebecca never made it to me. She was seen entering the Last Hallway, but before meeting the judge she turned around and descended to the capital proper. From there, she… well." He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. "She… began to murder as many monsters as she could find."

Henry and Kyle Troy looked at each other and frowned. Henry spoke first, "Wh-what? Murder… Mr. Dreemurr, that's, you're joking. Rebecca would never have-"

"There is footage from several video cameras around the capital. There is no doubt whatsoever that she murdered them, many in cold blood. She killed nearly forty of my subjects, Mr. Troy, and may have killed many more had Dr. Gaster not… played his role. I may have died, if I found her first. As for why she did so… I cannot say. I can only speculate that my own goal, to capture human souls, may have played a role. So I will take on the guilt from her actions, in her stead."

Kyle started like he was about to get up from his seat, but Henry's hand at his shoulder stopped him. Asgore wished he could tell them more, but he really could not say. If the fact of her mass murder was hard to believe, than the reasons he heard for her doing so were preposterous…

* * *

 _The streets, normally bustling at this time of day, were silent except for the rattling of his armor and the thumps of his footfalls. He followed the mostly intact set of gray footprints and smudges which veered inside houses and businesses before returning to the street thicker and more defined. The stale, dry scent of dust was heavy in the air, a grim portent of what lay at the end of the trail. He must be getting close. He must be, the line of carnage must end soon. He mentally recited the spell to conjure up his trident from pure magic, feeling a small bit of security as the energy crystallized into matter and settled in his paws. The next corner. He would turn the next corner and find the human. He had to; his heart would not be able to take it if he only found another set of dusty footprints, another street devoid of life._

 _He found a grisly sight, but not the one he expected. A human girl laid face-down on the ground, scorch marks on the wall behind her. Dr. Wing Din Gaster and another, shorter skeleton (Sans? It had been years so he could not be sure but it certainly looked like a grown-up version of Asriel and Chara's old playmate) knelt down over her. Gaster held a glass tube in his hands, and from within the tube a human soul pulsed with blue light. Ah, Asgore was too late, then. He exhaled with relief and immediately felt guilty. Should he really be so happy that once again someone else fulfilled his duty to protect his people? "Gaster!" he shouted. "Is it over?"_

 _Gaster stood up and walked briskly over. He thrust the container into Asgore's hands with enough force to cause the king to stumble. Once his hands were free his left hand cupped around the first two digits of his right hand, then he pulled those fingers out dramatically to point them up._ I quit.

 _Asgore bumbled to get a firm grip on the soul container, blinking at him stupidly. "You… you what?"_

 _Gaster's fingers flailed as he struggled to contain everything he wanted to say._ You have no idea how lucky we have been, no idea at all! Any of the humans before now could have slaughtered every last one of us, and only their mercy kept them from it. Five times we have teetered on the brink of annihilation, and each time avoided it only because each of the humans would rather have died than have killed. It could have been worse than this, your Majesty, much worse!

" _Doctor, I am afraid you have quite lost me. What has happened?"_

Before she died the human rambled on about many pointless things. But there is one thing she said that is of primal importance! When she fell into the underground this human gained the power to reverse time. She claimed I killed her many times over, in that hallway. Of course I have no memory of doing anything of the sort. Each time she died she returned to the start of the hallway, and only she remembered what happened. Even after dozens of attempts she could not keep me from killing her. So she… turned around. She came here, she did all this, to get revenge on me. Something like, "I won't come back this time, and all these people will be dead because you're such a bastard." _If anything Gaster seemed proud of the epithet placed upon him._

 _A chill settled over Asgore, more concerned over the conduct of his friend than the manner in which he learned of it. Time travel, alternate futures, it would take him days to comprehend that. But Gaster murdering this girl? That he could wrap his head around. "Would you really have killed her, had she approached you? No matter what?"_

 _Gaster sneered._ You have never found fault with my performance before, will you start now that I have forsaken those responsibilities? At any rate I cannot rest. All my other lines of work must be abandoned. Unraveling the secret of their time manipulation abilities is now my number one priority. I have no time to be your Judge.

" _Dr. Gaster, control yourself. You dismiss everything else the human said, why do you put so much stock in one statement?"_

Because if she was telling the truth then it is only through the mercy of humans that any of us are alive right now. You know full well how far a human's mercy extends. We got five good humans, Asgore.

" _Six," Asgore corrected. "Chara never would have harmed anyone."_

They never would have harmed a monster, _he corrected in a way which conceded the point._ But our luck will run out. On that day we must be ready. Before another human arrives, I will discover the secret of this ability and take it from them. For the survival of us all, I must. _He looked at the soul canister in Asgore's hands and thought for a moment._ I nominate Sans to be the new Judge.

" _Wh-what?!" the shorter skeleton took a step back. His eyes widened and his eye lights went out entirely. "Me?! Boss, I, uh, really don't think I'm right for the job. I-I've barely even met a human before. A-and I have meltdown! I can't even run across campus without leaving bits of myself behind, what'll happen if I get in a real fight?"_

You are an excellent arbiter of character and you are familiar with my criteria. Your condition won't be a problem, you know very well I've made certain of that. _Asgore raised an eyebrow. Sans curled inward on himself, looking like he very much wanted to turn away from Gaster but unable to bring himself to such rudeness to someone who communicated in sign._ I have faith in you, Sans. I could not ask for a better successor. _Gaster turned his attention back to Asgore, indicating without saying anything that the final decision rested in the hands of he who wore the crown._

 _Asgore sighed. Sans was clearly uncomfortable with the responsibility. It was possible he would grow into the position, but it was just as likely he would not. Meltdown did not concern him, he remembered catching flak for allowing Undyne to join the Royal Guard amid cries of favoritism but she certainly showed the naysayers "what was up". Heck, at the rate she was going she could be the new Captain once Doge retired. His real concern was the temperament of the short skeleton. Sans had always been a bit reserved. As a child he would get led around by_ Chara _, quiet introverted Chara of all people. Would Sans be able to put down a human the way Gaster could, the way Gaster had today? But he needed a Judge. He straightened his back and made his offer: "Sans, Dr. Gaster is not only an old and dear friend but the finest mind in all the Kingdom. If he recommends you that is all the assurance I need you are indeed up to the task. Will you accept the honor and responsibility as my Judge?"_

 _Sans looked from Asgore to Gaster and back again, his face still as death. He closed his eyes and nodded once. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll do it. Only two more souls, right?"_

 _Asgore bowed deeply. "Thank you. Gaster, before you go, I think it would be a good idea to take a reading of your EXP. Knowing how much you acquired from doing your duty would- you're shaking your head no. Why not?"_

The circumstances of her death were highly unusual. I did not have the opportunity to control all the variables I would need to. Recording how much EXP I got for killing her would introduce unnecessary noise into the data. _His hands wavered a little during his signs. Nervousness? From Gaster?_ Besides, now that I am no longer the Judge and not under suspicion my EXP is not something you can casually demand. Will you deny my right to privacy?

" _No, you're right," he conceded. "I will defer to your judgment. You are free to go." Perhaps there was something to Gaster's objections. Asgore was having trouble detecting any change at all in Gaster's EXP, so he must have gotten so little he did not even gain LOVE. But that obviously could not be, not when the human was so strong and had killed so many! It would be a curious outlier… better to remove this incident from the data pool._

 _Gaster took one last look at the fallen human's body._ Do with it what you will, but do it quickly. If you leave it in the hands of the public they just might tear it apart. _Then he walked away unhurriedly with his hands behind his back, Sans following in his footsteps at double-time to make up for the taller skeleton's longer gait._

* * *

So he had no comfort to offer the Troy husbands as they struggled to make sense of it. How could their daughter, the one they loved so much, do such a thing? He would have to explain timelines, and time travel, and the curious circumstances of the Underground. No way. That was not a discussion he could have here.

"And… Avery." Toriel glanced at Mary, who had crossed her arms and legs and bounced her foot up and down. "He stayed with me only one night. I do not believe he slept well, yelling and crying. In the morning he took his breakfast to go and insisted on going to the castle. I tried to argue with him but he… pointed his gun at me. I did not know what it was but by his stance I assumed it was a weapon of some kind and he was threatening me. I… I was so shocked I allowed him to leave."

"As for how he died," Asgore began. "This… may be difficult to hear."

* * *

" _Just a minute," Asgore said as he heard someone enter the room behind him. "I am almost-"_

" _No time for that!" Sans yelled, his voice straining. "You gotta help him!"_

 _Asgore whirled around. Sans, his eyesockets wide, had a human child draped over his shoulder. His labcoat was dyed with red stripes from fresh blood, and the human hung limply. Asgore threw his watering can aside and rushed to take the child from him. As soon as he did Sans fell on his backside and rubbed a bit of sweat from his brow. No, that was not sweat. Slime? It looked as though he was exuding slime, but that must have been… meltdown. Oh, Alphys said he was supposed to call it chronic conci-something, but that was too long for him to remember, let alone say. "Are you quite alright, Sans?"_

" _It's not that bad," the skeleton said as he sat down in the flowers. "I've lived through worse. I'm staying together, I'm just a little more… malleable, is all. But him! You gotta do something to save him!"_

 _Asgore turned his attention to the human and shuddered. The human was bleeding profusely from a hole in the side of his head. The blood stained Asgore's paws and dripped down to the flowers. The child's eyes were closed, his jaw was slack, and his body sagged like only dead weight could. The child was unconscious. They would be dead in moments._

 _Asgore squeezed his eyes shut. "There is nothing I can do," he admitted. "Green magic can close the wound and yellow magic might give them more energy, but they have lost too much blood. No matter how much energy I give to him or how much I do, it won't be enough. Healing magic has its limits, especially when it comes to physical bodies." He pushed some of the child's hair aside to look at the wound. So small, and yet it sealed the child's fate. It was round but too wide to be an arrow and too clean to be a spear. "What caused this? I've never seen anything like it."_

 _Sans held out a strange metal object, holding it by the cylinder end and not by the obvious handle. "It's called a 'gun'. The human showed it to me and explained how it worked. See, there's this weird-looking thing on the back, he called it the 'hammer'. Pull it back and it locks in place. Then you squeeze on this part, the 'trigger', and the hammer slams down. If there's a bullet in the chamber it shoots forward and does, well,_ that _to whatever it's pointed at."_

 _Asgore took the strange device. It fit neatly into his palm, so small he could never use it but somehow deadly enough to destroy its user. "A bullet?"_

" _Not like ours," Sans said gravely. He displayed a small metal cylinder which was rounded on one end, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. It was about as thin as one of Sans' phylanges and no longer than a fingerbone. "It's small, and it's fast. Too fast to be seen. The kid's got three kills to his name, and I know one of them was Doge."_

 _Asgore blinked. "My Captain of the Royal Guard?"_

 _Sans nodded. "He said one shot was all it took. For this, too. He did it to himself." Asgore looked up at him in horror and Sans sighed. "He put the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger. Didn't tell me why, not in so many words, but I think in a weird way he was trying to spare my feelings." He replaced the bullet in his pocket and averted his eyes. "Do you think I killed him? In other timelines, I mean. Did I blast him like Gaster would have, and he decided he'd rather kill himself than let me do it?"_

 _Asgore shook his head. "You shouldn't let yourself get caught up in that. Gaster allowed the question of those timelines to consume him, and you know better than I where that led him. Instead you should-"_

" _I can't just forget it," Sans growled, before rapping his knuckles against his forehead. "Heh, sorry about that. I know you're right. I just…"_

 _He was saved from having to elaborate by a yellow light shining from the child. His soul, a beacon of Justice, had emerged from his chest. Dead, then. He had died just now. Sans pulled a canister from the pocket of his coat, fiddled with the ends a bit, and-_

FWTHUMP!

 _With a sound like a vacuum cleaner devouring a handkerchief the soul was sucked into the container. It glowed softly and warmly, seemingly inured to the horrible scene around it. Sans sighed and set the container on the grass, then fell backwards. "All yours, boss," he said. "Sorry for messing up your flowers."_

 _Asgore sighed. "It's… it's quite alright. I suppose I've sort of let them get… out of hand." He really ought to control their growth more, but for some reason he was never able to bring himself to do it._

 _Sans breathed in and out for several minutes while Asgore returned to his gardening. At first he thought Sans was napping until the skeleton asked, "hey asgore, you ever thought the way chara died was weird? like, getting that sick that suddenly… do you suppose that really happens to humans?"_

 _The fur on his hackles stiffened, and he was very thankful his back was to Sans. His new Judge was extremely good at reading facial expressions, and he did not dare think about what secrets would be revealed if Sans could see his face now. "It must be possible since that's what happened," Asgore replied. He paused, considering that his tone might have been too harsh. "Gaster knew more about human bodies than anyone, but our knowledge was always inadequate."_

"… _yeah. yeah, i guess that makes sense. forget i said anything."_

" _Are you alright, Sans? Your voice just now…"_

" _Huh?" Sans said, lifting his head up. "What about my voice?"_

 _He blinked. "Nothing, it must have been my imagination. Nap as long as you wish, Sans, your company is welcome."_

" _Thanks all the same, but I… i really oughta be heading back. take some 'me' time, you know?"_

" _I fully understand. But can I at least interest you in some tea or-" When Asgore turned Sans was already gone, leaving only a few white splotches on the flowers where he had been laying a moment ago._

* * *

Mary fumed, "Now I _know_ yer a lyin' sunova snake!" Penny made a grab to keep her in her seat like Henry did for Kyle, but she was too slow. Mary's seat rumbled from the force of her violence. "My boy never woulda been such a coward, never! I don't need to hear a damn thing more, I'm ready to shoot this freak and bury him in the woods!"

"Hold on!" Amanda said, raising her voice. "I agree what he's done is terrible, but we aren't… really going to kill him, are we? I don't think that's what Wen- Marijane would have wanted."

Her ex-husband swiveled in his seat toward her and reasoned, "None of them wanted to die, either, and he has to pay for what he's done. He's a king, he might get diplomatic immunity or something!"

"Even so," Amanda protested. "Wouldn't it be best to leave it to the courts? Have a trial, prove his guilt, like civilized people?"

"We don't need no trials," Mary sneered. "Out in the woods, we have our own justice. 'Shotgun, shovel, shut up.' I didn't come here to play pattycakes, I'm here to make sure no kid ever has to go through what my Avery did ever again! And I know just how to do that…!"

"Hold on, hold on!" Henry got out of his seat, Kyle right next to him, holding out their arms to form a physical barrier between Mary and Asgore. "We don't have to kill him! We can turn him in to the police and let them take care of it. He's already confessed, he's not going to fight it!"

Penny raised her hand. "Erm… I say… let's have a vote, to see what we'll do. If the rest of you are finished with Asgore."

Mary scoffed. "A vote? I'm the one with the gun and y'all think we're gonna have a _vote_?"

Asgore clenched his fists. The moment had arrived. He forced himself to breathe in and out, certain any breath might be his last. This was the inevitable result of his actions. He could not say he didn't deserve this. Let it come. Let it come.

At this moment one of Beatrice's security agents entered the room. He carefully stepped around the brewing argument and bent at the waist to whisper something in Beatrice's ear. Beatrice listened with an unwavering expression but a distracted gaze. Finally she turned toward him and said aloud, "Intruders on the premises?" Her voice got the attention of everyone and she waved her man on, "Go ahead, if there's a danger this concerns them as well."

The man straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. "There should not be any danger, ma'am. It appears to be a few kids from the city who climbed over the fences and are running amok within the house. We are trying to keep any property damage they deal to a minimum but we don't believe they're a threat."

Beatrice tapped a finger against her desk. "Hm. Odd for them to come today of all days, isn't it? Well, it isn't my job to discipline children. Round them up and see if you can contact whoever their parents are, this house is too far into the wilderness for children to be running around unsuper-"

The door slammed open, prompting Asgore to stand and turn just in time to see the doorknob bouncing off the side of a bookshelf and leave a dent. Standing in the doorway was a red-faced and panting youth. The child had blond hair and blue-bordering-on-gray eyes. He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, both nearly spotless. Instead of retreating when he entered a room with so many grown-ups he immediately started looking from one face to another. He held his breath when he saw Ms. Campton's face, and she in turn paled as their eyes met. Her hands flew up and covered her mouth to stop her scream. She leaned forward so far she was about to defy gravity, like an excited dog pulling its leash taut. Her trembling hands lowered just enough to allow her to ask in a weak voice, "… Avery? It cain't be… is that you?"

The boy stiffened. He stood up as straight as he could, eyes watering. His mouth opened but he closed it again before any sound could come out. He tried again and said with a quivering lower lip, "Ah did somethin' real bad, momma."

* * *

AN: I considered putting the Sans bit at the beginning of this chapter at the end of the last one. I decided that if I ended a chapter on that note and gave people several weeks to consider what Sans may have found out, people were going to figure out the twist. It's not a decision I would have made if I were not releasing this story as a serial. Also, you have no idea how much I was giggling when I wrote the bit in chapter 8 where Undyne protests the human bodies did not get up and walk away on their own.

I realize some people might be a little mad about this plot development after all the work to keep things semi-realistic so far. The only thing I'll say right now is that the open coffins are in the game itself and this is setup for Chara's eventual revival, and any plot with that goal is going to involve at least a little bit of an asspull. Next chapter we'll get a few more details on how the kids are alive and what had to be done to do it, though I'll be keeping a couple cards close to my chest. I can't reveal all my secrets just yet!


	13. The Dead and the Living, Part 2

The spell keeping Ms. Campton in place shattered. She bolted past Asgore's throne and fell to her knees in front of her child, wrapping her arms around Avery's neck. "It's you," she sobbed. "It's you, it's you, ah, Ah can't…" Her son hugged her back, sniffling and rubbing his eyes against her shoulder.

"Ah hurt dad," he cried back. "Ah didn't know, Ah didn't see, but-"

"Never mind," Mary said. "It was an accident. You didn't mean no harm, you was trying to protect us. You did just what you were supposed to."

Asgore rose to his feet as his jaw dropped. He _had_ seen this child before, only once. At that time his eyes had been closed, the color was leaving his face, and blood was pouring from a bullet wound in the side of his head. Asgore had watched as the child's pulse had slowed and his yellow soul erupted from his body. It fell to him to voice the word every other person in the room was thinking: "Impossible."

Avery Campton, the seventh human child to fall into Mt. Ebott, looked up at the king of monsters and wiped his eyes with a sniffle. "You're Mr. Asgore, arencha?" He calmly reached for the right side of his head and pushed his hair aside to reveal a small circular scar at his temple. "Sorry Ah don't knew fer sure, Ah reckon Ah was lookin' kinda poorly the last time we met."

His mother looked at the wound incredulously. She rubbed it with her fingers, seeing but not believing. "This…"

The boy shrugged and looked to the side. "I figgered things'd work out, if there were no more killers in the underground. I was the only one left so I had to go. I'm sorry, it just… it made sense, at the time." Then he was caught in a bearhug as his mother clasped him tightly around the shoulders.

Beatrice turned her head to her security man with an intense purpose. "… How many children are on the property?"

The man wiped his eyes and returned to his sense of professionalism with a cough. "Um… there may be as many as five more, ma'am. So six if you count this young man here."

Beatrice continued smiling as though nothing was wrong. "Six, you say. _Six_. Hmmmmm." The adults all looked at each other, each one thinking the same impossible thought. The truth was as clear as it was unbelievable. "Bring them here," Beatrice demanded. "Calmly, carefully. Do not harm even a single one of them, do you understand me?" The man saluted and strode out the door in calm but hurried steps.

A stunned silence fell over the gathered humans and monsters. Penny was the first to move, looking from Beatrice to Avery. "You… you don't really think…?"

Avery nodded. "It's jes' whatcha think. We're okay. I happened to find y'all first but we're alive, we're all alive. So don't any of you hurt Mr. Dreemurr, aight?"

"Avery!" his mother shouted. "He's the scum-suckin'-

"He had a rough time of it," Avery stood his ground. "He didn't have any good choices ta make. He did the best he could and tried to keep us all alive. I'm askin' ya, I'm beggin' ya from all of us… don't do nuthin' to hurt 'im."

For a moment Mary looked as though she was going to lash out. Instead her shoulders relaxed and she squeezed her boy. "A'ight. I ain't never gonna like 'im, but Ah won't kill 'im."

"You have a yellow soul, young one," Asgore said, getting down on one knee. "It's the color of Justice. An ambition to mold the world into a shape better than what it is now, conviction that a better world is possible. I am… immensely grateful that your vision of the future has me in it."

Avery put out his hand for a shake. "You never hurt me none. You got a good heart yerself, Mr. Dreemurr." Asgore reached out and took Avery's hand between his thumb and forefinger, pumping once.

Amanda stepped forward. "I don't know how you did it," she said to Asgore. "But… we may owe you an apology."

Asgore released Avery's hand and swallowed. He rose to his feet and held out his hands. "I… I am glad for this fortunate event, but I had nothing to do with it. I-"

"Enough!" Beatrice shouted, her smile vanishing. Her eyes blazed with a white-hot fire. "You are a fool if you say another word. Take the credit for it, you boob. You are not so stupid as to think we were going to have tea and cookies before sending you off on your way, are you? Either I was going to have you arrested or let the widow Campton kill you herself, but before these children appeared you were not going to leave this house under your own power. So you don't know how it happened, that's no real trouble. Can't you simply say magic returned them to life?"

"But magic can't do that!" he protested. "Magic isn't enough to revive the dead! You would have to be a god!"

"An act of God, then?" Beatrice sighed but she replaced the smile on her face. "Very well, we will leave it at that. I suppose we will have time to teach you the finer arts of diplomacy."

Time. Time. Suddenly everything clicked for Asgore. Too late he realized what had struck him as odd. The mayor had called Beatrice yesterday evening and told her of the existence of monsters and the fate of the children. Between then and now she had investigated and found the entrance to the Underground, spoke with the relatives of the fallen children and gotten them to agree to this meeting, researched Chara, and had the throne carved for him. Could all that really have been done in a single day? And then there was the strange disconnect between what she said and what she conveyed; her words and her moods did not match. What if it was not her idiosyncrasy, but instead Beatrice was simply a bad actor? And the children! They could only have escaped the Underground at a single moment, when every monster was still unconscious following the appearance of that flower four full days ago! Where had they been between then and now? What if Beatrice had not had a single day, but an entire weekend to plan this meeting? And beyond all of that, how could the children have made their appearance at this precise place and time? The coincidence was too outrageous to believe.

He stared hard into Beatrice's eyes, his question written on his face. _Did you know?_ She looked back unflinchingly and answered with narrowed eyes, a blush on her cheeks, and a grin that widened to swallow the earth.

* * *

Frisk sat on the steps of the school. The buses had all left and most of the other kids had parents or guardians pick them up already. The substitute, Mr. Moulton, waited with them. At first he tried to ask about Frisk's time in class and how they were liking the school, but after being rebuffed he did not try to strike up conversation again.

Silas' white sedan pulled up and Frisk identified it as belonging to their guardian. Mr. Moulton let them go and Frisk got into the car, staring at the backpack set between their feet while they snapped their seatbelt on.

Silas asked, "Finished your second day. How are your classmates treating you?"

Frisk shrugged. They had been looking forward to this all day. Time to be all alone with Silas. But now that it was here their throat closed up and their stomach twisted. They stole a glance at him but he was not even looking, the road taking up his full attention. "I get ignored. I don't fit in, yet." The last word had been awkwardly stapled onto the end in an effort to disguise the meaning of what they said.

Silas did not notice the deception; his eyebrow would have raised if he had. "It's been too long since I was a child," he coughed. "And I never transfered schools mid-year. I'm not sure whether that's normal or not. But I'm sure the other kids will accept you in time."

Everyone was always so sure of that. Who did they really think they were fooling? But Frisk said nothing to contradict what they knew in their heart was not true. Every time they opened their mouth they couldn't help but wonder whether they were going to say something stupid. Because they were going to, sooner or later, and at first Silas would laugh and think Frisk was being silly. But that wouldn't last. He would not think that forever. Frisk looked out the window at the rows of packed-together houses with wide driveways and front laws the size of postage stamps. Why? Even after freeing the Underground, why had nothing changed for them?

They asked, "Do you think Asgore and Toriel are okay?"

"I hope they are," Silas replied. "But I have no way of knowing. Neither of them have cell phones and they likely would not be able to get away to use them anyway. All we can do now is pray for them."

Frisk sunk further into the seat and watched suburbia pass by. "Mmm."

* * *

The chairs were moved around while the rest of the children were rounded up. Instead of an inquisitorial semi-circle around Asgore's throne, now all the adults were in a line facing the door. Each of them wrung their hands and shuffled their feet and held their breath. Each trying to remember, what happened the last time we saw our children? How did they leave us? How were they feeling then? And how had the intervening years and decades treated them? Toriel and Asgore were nervous as well. Their hope was even more impossible: that the estimates were wrong and it was actually eight children who had broken through the barrier between life and death.

The first child to arrive after Avery was a young girl with a round face. Her brown hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, revealing the tiny widow's peak at the top of her hairline. She started on being brought into a room with so many grown-ups and looked ready to shout or scream if she did not seize up first, then shook off her escort to bolt for Toriel. She wrapped her hands around the boss monster's stomach, trembling. Marijane, poor sweet Marijane. Toriel swallowed and sent an apologetic look over to her parents. This child, Toriel has raised this child as her own for five years. Nearly half her life had been spent away from her parents… would she even recognize them now?

Amanda and Brian Sunapee silently agreed who would be better suited to appeal to their daughter. Amanda stepped forward. "Marijane? That's your name now, isn't it?" The girl turned at the sound of her name but made no move to release Toriel. She had been so small when she first fell to the underground, the last time she saw her parents, but now she was nearly five feet tall. Amanda barely needed to squat to put herself on eye level with her daughter. "I know we weren't good to you before. I'm sorry we didn't understand. We've spent… so, so long, regretting what we did. We have wanted to make it up to you all this time. And we would be, incredibly grateful if you gave us a chance to do that. If you would forgive us, and let us be your mommy and daddy again."

Marijane swallowed and looked up at Toriel. For advice, or for permission? Toriel patted her head softly. "Only you can make the choice," she said. "Only you truly know your own heart. But I was honored to take care of you those five years, and I learned a bit about you. And I think you have been looking forward to this day when you could show them the good, strong, kind girl you've grown up to be."

Toriel swallowed her tears. It felt like she was letting her go off to her death all over again. But the moment Marijane released her she knew it was for the best. The human girl took a few tentative steps forward, looked back at Toriel with a complicated smile, then ran toward her parents. She hugged her mother and breathed in through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have run away. I was young, and stupid, and I freaked out."

"It's fine," Amanda said, and Brian finally joined them in a family hug. "It's fine. We're sorry too. We're just glad you're back and you're safe. That's all that matters."

"Soon," Marijane said through a tight throat. "My body… it's going to turn into something else. Something I don't want. I left Toriel because I thought humans might… that they could fix me." She opened her mouth to say more but was unable. Her eyes did the pleading for her.

"There are some options." Amanda squeezed her daughter's shoulders. "After you disappeared, we learned all we could. There are things we can do, things we can try. We want you to be happy, and we'll figure out the best way to get there." Marijane buried her face in her mother's breast and sobbed.

While they scooted off to a corner of the room for privacy a dark-skinned lad was the next to enter, being led by the arm by one of Beatrice's tuxedo-clad security agents. He had a tight face and and a head that looked large but was not, an illusion created by hair shaved almost to the skin. Tyrone Eaton yanked his arm free and rubbed his hand with a scowl. Shakira stood and walked over to him, her face carefully neutral. The younger sister now towered over her brother, and he snickered as he looked up into her face. "What's so funny?" she asked.

Tyrone waved off, "It's nothing. I just… you remember that time when you were four, and you got real mad and swore red-faced that someday you were going to grow up to be older than me?"

"You idiot!" she screamed, falling to her knees to wrap her arms around him before anyone could react. Her disguise of indifference crumbled in an instant. "You big, dumb idiot… don't you ever scare me like that again!"

Tyrone shuffled nervously from one foot to the other before slowly, haltingly, hugging his sister back. "… Sorry. I shouldn't've left you alone."

"I owe you nuthin'," she said with a cracking voice. "An' you've got a lot to make up for. So I ain't letting you go. I'm gonna keep you forever. You'll never be free again, you hear me?"

"Yeah," he nodded into her shoulder. "I gotcha. Thanks… and sorry again."

Ms. Eaton had barely made it back to her chair with her brother in tow before the next child in the procession was brought it. It was a tall and slender girl of almost fourteen years. Her black hair was done up in braids and she deliberately favored her right leg as she walked. Asgore felt his throat clench. The last time he had seen this girl she had been lying on the side of the streets of the capital, covered in dust. Rebecca Troy entered the room staring at her shoes, holding the security agents' hand in a white-knuckle death grip. Henry and Kyle rushed forward, hugging her while blubbering indecipherable words of comfort. The agent made himself scarce and released her, but she did not return her fathers' affection. "Wait," she said as she extricated herself. "Wait. There's… something I need to do first, before anything." She walked with slow, deliberative steps to Asgore and craned her neck to look up at him with shimmering eyes. "I… I'm sorry. I hurt… I killed so many of your people. They aren't ever coming back. There's no excuse for what I've done. I know I should be grateful for another chance at life. But if it's what you want, I won't stop you from taking your revenge."

"Becca, no!" Kyle said. "We just got you back, you can't-"

"You were going to kill him," Rebecca snapped. "Don't tell me you weren't! If he deserved to die for six deaths, I deserve to die for forty. Like… can you even grasp that? Forty! Each of them was important to someone! Forty Lillys, forty Averys, forty Rebeccas! And it'll never be better, nothing can ever make it better!" She bared her teeth and sunk to her knees, rubbing at her eyes. "I'm sorry!" Rebecca sobbed. "I'm sorry! I-I…"

Her fathers watched on, helpless. Even Toriel could only cover her mouth and cry silently. Asgore stepped in front of her, his face a mask of sorrow. "I don't want your life, Rebecca. I will not be so ungrateful that I would refuse to extend the mercy granted to me. Rise, and return to your own life. Find a way to move on, and carry your mistakes with you. That is the best any of us can do."

Rebecca continued sobbing, unable to answer. Asgore knelt down and opened his arms, and she dived into them while continuing to cry. He patted her on the head; he had never wanted to hurt anyone, not even her, not even after what she had done. He was sure she once thought the same way, before an untold number of deaths broke her down. "You were in a terrible situation," Asgore said quietly. "I know some of it, but only another one of the children who fell down can ever truly understand. It should not have happened to anyone, let alone someone as young as you. All of us have a limit. I am sorry, for my part in pushing you past yours."

She nodded and wiped the tears off her cheeks with her sleeves. "What about… the others? Their families, their friends? You can't… really speak for all of them, can you? Surely-"

So she was looking for someone to take the pain of her sins away in the most final way possible. Another feeling he could intimately relate to. "There has been enough hatred. More killing will not solve anything. Go. Your own parents can comfort you better than I ever will. Do not let the single act you regret be all you are known for." He released her and she went back to the loving arms of her fathers.

A stocky boy was led in next, wearing semi-formal clothing that did not quite fit with his thick, working-class face. His nose was his most prominent feature, if only because it had clearly taken a bad hit at some point and healed slightly crooked. His brown hair curled up at the edges, messy in the way that only someone who has never held a comb in their life can manage. He walked in on tiptoe and scanned the crowd, his face brightening as he saw Penny. "Mom!" Skye Harris shouted, waving his arm. "Mom, I'm here!" Penny opened her arms for a hug. He hesitated slightly, guaging the rest of the room for whether it would be embarrassing for a quick moment before throwing caution to the wind and embracing his mother with a laugh. He pulled away with a curious expression, looking around the room one more time. "… Where's dad?"

Penny sucked in air. "I'm sorry," she said. "Losing you… it tore him up inside. He was never the same. Whatever else you feel about him, he loved you and… he couldn't go on without you."

Skye stared at his mother as his smile slid off his face. "Oh," he said finally, with no inflection. "Oh, right. I guess I should have figured… okay. Okay." He scratched at his head and motioned toward the couch. "I guess we should, sit down. Make room for the others, y'know." It made Toriel's heart ache to see him like that, but there was nothing she could do right now. She knew Skye was more emotionally distant than any of the other children she knew, possibly even more so than Chara had been, and he would not be able to let himself go in so public a place. He would control himself until he was alone, and even then he would grieve in a very quiet, very private way so no one else would know what was happening. That was the way he was.

Last but certainly not least was Beatrice's niece. Lilly Thompson had been born more than thirty years ago. She should have been a healthy middle-aged woman. Instead here she was, still a young girl yet to come into her own as a woman, the exact same age she was when she died. Her pale face and long blond hair She did not need to scan the crowd for her aunt; her eyes went right to the seat behind the desk, reserved for the most important person in the room, and there Beatrice was. "You got old," Lilly said with a smirk, tears at the corners of her eyes.

"It is not my fault you took your sweet time," Beatrice chided. She stood up from her seat, leaning heavily on a cane. When she was sitting she projected immortal and unshakable strength; when she stood her shoulders were hunched and her footing unsteady, even her cane hand wobbled, and it struck Asgore just then that Beatrice was very old indeed. She continued in a softer tone, "It is good to see you again, dear. Come here, let me get a good look at you." Lilly stepped around the line of envious parents and over to her aunt to share a hug. "I have missed you."

Now that Asgore knew what to look for it was obvious; Beatrice and Lilly acted as though they had spent a weekend apart, rather than a long absence of twenty four years. Should he say something about it? No… regardless of her aims, it would solve nothing to make an accusation he could not prove, especially when he had no idea why she would hide the children's return. He glanced at Toriel and saw in her face the same calculation. Of course she saw through it, if Beatrice's artifice could not fool Asgore of course Toriel would catch it as well. Even after being separated for thirty years they could understand each other without speaking a word. Toriel looked away first but her face was set: for now staying quiet would be for the best.

Asgore waited, his eye on the door, but it seemed all the children had been accounted for. His insides felt like they were being crumpled up to get tossed into the garbage. He was being greedy, he knew that. After six miracles it would be nothing short of avarice to wish for a seventh, let alone an eighth. And yet… and yet. He could not help feeling bitter. Seven families suffered loss. Six of them found peace. One was left out. Why? Was this a punishment for his anger?

Beatrice explained, "I've already had the papers contacted. The press ought to be told of the return of our children as well as the people who made it possible. Ah ah, don't you argue Mr. Dreemurr, you are never going to have more favorable circumstances to announce the return of monsters than this. I've been told you may have need of the campgrounds around Mt. Ebott, or at least the land it rests on. We may talk of that tomorrow; for now we must give all the world this wonderful news. Don't you think so, your majesty?"

He should be happy. Ecstatic even. The guillotine blade which had been threatening him since the barrier was destroyed had vanished, and the single greatest obstacle to monster integration was now cleared. But he could not enjoy it because he did not understand Beatrice's motives. She had engineered this play without the knowledge of the other parents, but to what end? If she wanted him dead she could have easily killed him without the production. He and Silas had been warned over and over that there was not a speck of honest altruism in her body. Money could not have been the concern, she was worth far more than the entire combined wealth of the monsters. So what was she after? He could not shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap far more devious than the threat he had faced down.

He set those concerns aside. For the moment he would go along with whatever she had planned out of expedience. "Very well, Ms. Lincoln. Let us go make history. Ah, but first, can I make a phone call…?"

* * *

Silas had barely gotten in the door when the phone started ringing. What rotten luck. He picked up the phone and started taking off his suit jacket. "Pembrooke residence."

"Uh, buddy, we got a serious problem here…"

Marty? Damn it. Beatrice's mansion was thirty minutes away, he'd never make it there in time. He reversed his direction to put his coat back on, swapping his phone from one hand to the other as he pulled it over his shoulders. "You're going to have to handle it yourself until I arrive. Get Toriel and Asgore out of there, I can't-"

"Hullo?" came Asgore's voice from the other end of the phone, sounding nonchalant. "Silas, are you there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here, what's the matter? I'm putting you on speaker. What's going on?" He waved over the three monsters and pointed to his phone. Undyne and Papyrus walked over quizzically; Alphys did not move from her spot at the computer but turned her head to listen better.

"Oh! Toriel and I met with the parents of the other children. It was, er, a little touch-and-go for a moment, but things went better than we had any right to expect. Only, um, I think it might be better if you could, uh, get Alphys and Undyne back to the Underground."

Silas's heartbeat rabbited against his chest. He struggled to keep his panic out of his voice. "Asgore, when answering a question you have to be precise. What. Happened?"

There was a pause and he heard rustling as the phone changed hands once again. "Silas?" This time it was Toriel's voice, her voice cracked from recently shed tears. "My ex-husband's incompetence has worked out in our favor for once, as it turns out he can't even kill children properly. They're alive. All of them, all six of the humans who fell after Chara, they all lived."

Toriel repetitions of that basic fact were necessary: Silas, the monsters, and even Frisk stared at the phone in wide-eyed silence. The worry Silas had been feeling drained away, leaving him too exhausted to fully process what he just heard. That must be the problem, right? Surely Toriel did not just say… well. He swallowed saliva to soothe his suddenly dry throat. "That's… impossible."

"That's what I said!" Asgore complained in the background, but the phone only barely picked his voice up and Toriel did not acknowledge it.

Instead she continued, "To take advantage of this opportunity, we are going to announce their survival and our existence to the world. I realize we had not planned on this, but in the circumstances-"

Silas agreed, "It's not ideal, but it probably can't be avoided, right. Are you sure you're ready? We haven't gone over what you were going to say nor finalized your plans for reintegration."

"Asgore has almost a thousand years of practice at public speaking. I am confident in his abilities in that area if nothing else. To begin, I expect most of today and the next few days will be informational; humans know nothing about us so we have to start from the beginning with magic, and the barrier, and everything. As you've said before, anything more than that will be too much at once."

Made sense. Silas rubbed at his eyes. "So tell me again why you need me to drive back to Mt. Ebott?"

"When we tell the humans where the monsters have been until now, the mountain will become very busy. We need Undyne there to make sure humans do not swarm inside. We will also need Alphys to begin planning logistics for the move. I feel given her… abilities and shortcomings, it would be best to keep her in a background role for now."

"I-I-I was thinking of going back down anyway," Alphys said, clicking her claws together. "I wanted to set up a relay so the Underground could connect to the human internet and television."

Toriel paused. "If you feel that is a valuable use of your time."

"Sounds like a plan," Silas said. "I'll get them to the Underground. What about Papyrus?"

"I am sorry he cannot be here when monsters make their debut. Tomorrow we will need our ambassador to begin his work, but for today please relax and get your rest. None of us will be getting much in the near future." Papyrus seemed disappointed but said nothing.

That still left one person unaccounted for. "Frisk, would you like to go with me or stay with Papyrus?"

He expected the child to jump at the chance to stay with Papyrus rather than subject themself to another car ride with the guardian they only sort of tolerated. So it came as a surprise when Frisk nodded and said, "I… I'd like to stay with you." They smiled and added, "I-I mean, it might be a little bit before I can see Alphys and Undyne again. I'd like to say 'See you later'."

Oh, right. That made sense. "Alright, I'll leave things in your capable hands, Toriel. Remember, when the news cameras are on you have to present a united front. I understand you and Asgore-"

"I am well aware of my duties," Toriel replied. She sighed and the hostility drained from her voice. "I apologize, this has been a rather emotional day. It will be good to get back to your house… already your couch feels like home."

"That reminds me, if you're going to be staying on to help with Frisk-"

"The couch is fine for the moment, we can discuss other arrangements later. I apologize, I am being informed the reporters are beginning to gather in the conference room and I must prepare. Do not worry, I am sure Marty can get us home safely when all is said and done. I may be home late, so make sure Frisk gets dinner and their homework done. I love you, Frisk, so be good, won't you?" Frisk made an affirmative sound and they said their goodbyes before the call terminated.

Silas returned his phone to its spot on the wall with a sigh. Well, so much for a quiet evening at home.

* * *

Susan was spending a second day in a row sick, which was ridiculous. She had never gotten laid out by a cold like this before. Normally she would be able to fight it off or rally or at least force herself to go out and face the world. But she thought of her kids, the ones she only saw for a few hours a day but still thought of as 'her kids'. She could imagine them now, wide smiles with missing teeth as they said "Good morning Miss Lee-ow!". And the moment she saw them, she knew the thought that would barge into her head would be, "Some monster, who I've only ever seen being funny and nice, looked a child like this in the eye and decided to murder them in cold blood". She could not handle that thought without breaking down crying.

She was watching reruns of some very old sitcom, dozing in and out to the hypnotic rhythm of canned laughter when it happened. The B-grade actor's line cut off in mid-punchline, replaced by the tense and self-important jingle of the evening news. She opened one eye, puzzled. A newscaster behind a desk, his face pale, spoke directly into the camera. "We come to you with a report that defies all belief. We strongly suggest to everyone watching they find a place to sit down. Weymouth and the surrounding towns have been plagued by an epidemic of missing children, seven in the last twenty seven years. Three days ago we brought you news that eight year old Frisk Holder, the latest of the missing, had been found unharmed and placed with a new foster family. Today, we have learned the six other missing children have also been found alive and been reunited with their families. Even more inexplicably they are being accompanied by monsters, friendly monsters, who the children credit with keeping them safe. We go live now to the scene, where-"

Susan bolted upright, knocking her blanket off the couch. She stared at the screen in dumbfounded amazement. "They're… they're alive…?"

There the kids were, six of them, standing with people who looked like their parents. Some were awkward and embarrassed, others were waving and smiling, but all of them looked almost exactly how they did when they went missing. And in the center of them was Asgore, standing at a too-small podium and addressing the crowd of reporters with regal grace and commanding power only a King could claim. "Er-hrm, yes. I come to you today with hope and humility. I am aware that our appearance can be shocking. I know we defy many of your cherished beliefs simply by the nature of our existence. There is so much I wish to say. I want to tell you-"

"Dear me, what is this?" Shuchun's mom shouted, one hand on her chest. She had entered the room without Susan even noticing. "That… that's not a costume, is it?"

Susan leapt to her feet and wrapped her arms around her mom. She bounced up and down while giggling, "They're alive! Mom, mom, I can't believe it they're alive! Ahahahaha it's great, it's so great, they're alive!"

Her mother smiled thinly. "So glad to see you in good health again. Tomorrow you go back to work."

She could not believe what she was hearing. " _That's_ what you're focused on? Don't you understand how huge this is?!"

"Shuchun, what I understand could scarcely fill a thimble. The world is much too complicated to be smart all the time. Monsters? People coming back from the dead? Too much for me! So tomorrow the sun will rise, the bills will be due, and so _you_ will go to work. Now sit down, but leave some room on the couch. This I have to see!"

Mother and daughter sat down on the sofa to watch history being made. But in the back of her mind Susan was thinking back to a few days prior, when she abandoned the monsters for their part in the deaths of those children. Damn it, if they were alive the whole time then what was the point of all that? Couldn't they have just told her? And now, what was she going to say to them?

* * *

"So Dr. Gaster revived the humans?"

"that's what it looks like," Sans told Dogamy, taking another careful sip from a bottle of water while he watched the sunset. It had been hours since his attack, and he was only now feeling well enough to be up and about. The fresh air helped, as did the orange view of the countryside. "gaster created the soul jars so the human souls would stay preserved until they were ready to use. at the same time he theorized a 'body jar', something he could stick the empty bodies into to keep them from spoiling. he figured he could research how the human body worked… lemme see if i remember his exact words, 'without that _patient consent_ malarkey getting in the way'. he told me he had no plans to make them but evidently he changed his mind without letting me in on it. he must have secretly stolen the bodies after asgore laid them in their coffins, confident the king wouldn't bother to check to see if they were still there."

Dogaressa rubbed her chin. "(So he put the bodies in the, uh, body jars, built a secret passage in the barrier room to hide them… and then?)"

Sans waved a hand in the air. "the central computer drive has been wiped, but i bet there was a program there to restore the bodies. heal the wounds that killed them, make them 'alive' again. then after the souls got released they found their way here and went back into their bodies. again, gaster must have planned for that; betcha those hangars weren't empty when the kids woke up. he probably even left a note for 'em, judging by the clean spot on the table. so the kids exit the chamber while closing the secret door behind them, walk past all of us that are soundly asleep, and out into the world. after that… who knows. but yeah, 110% those kids are alive."

"Amazing!" Dogamy panted happily. "That Dr. Gaster is incredible to have pulled that off!"

"yeah, amazing." Even as Sans said it he knew his theory was garbage. There was a sizable hole: the seventh human, the yellow soul. Gaster was already gone by the time that soul was collected, so there should not have been anyone to steal the body away and put it into the secret chamber. The only way that theoretical plan could have gone off without a hitch after Gaster's disappearance was if he had a secret co-conspirator, someone he trusted more than Sans yet had absolutely no public dealings with. Was there anyone like that? Sans sincerely doubted it. But any other hypothesis he could make was even more crazy: Alphys couldn't have pulled off something like this and kept it secret from Sans; none of the other scientists had anywhere near the clandestine resources to do this right under the King's nose; and, well, everyone loved Asgore but to be blunt he was not clever enough to do something like this. Then there was the computer. It had apparently been set to format itself after completing the task of reviving the dead children. Why? What secrets were they trying to hide?

The Dogi's ears perked up. "Someone's coming," Dogamy said, sniffing the air. "Really fast. Sounds like…"

"(The captain?)"

A cloud of dirt and dust billowed out from beneath the treetops, with more being kicked out in a trail leading directly up the mountain. Trees shook, the ground rumbled, and a faint-but-growing-louder shout of "nnngggaaaaaaAAAAAAAA _AAAAAAA_ _ **AAGHHHHHH!**_ "boomed into the air. A blue-green blur shot up from below the edge of the cliff and Undyne, holding Alphys in a bridal carry, hung in the air for a brief moment before landing amongst the gathered monsters. What, she ran straight up the side of the sheer cliff? Even Sans was impressed. She landed with a thud, kicking up yet more dust into the air. Undyne placed Alphys on the ground and the yellow dinosaur hugged the dirt path for stability. The poor scientist looked ready to lose her lunch. Undyne then spun on her heel, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted down the mountain, _"_ _ **TIME!**_ " The Dogi had to cover their ears against the sonic assault, and the echo lasted five full seconds. She explained at a normal volume, "I really ought to be holding the stopwatch myself, but we didn't have one. Ah well, Silas'll tell me what my time was when we come back. Phew, you done with that?" She pointed at Sans' bottle of water, only half-empty despite him nursing it for the past hour.

Sans handed it over dutifully. She was going to have another attack if she did not rehydrate. "take it. you seem pretty happy. i guess there isn't a horde of bloodthirsty humans on your trail?"

Undyne finished off the bottle of water in one gulp and wiped her mouth on her forearm. "Nah, we got a ride from Silas. Uh, he's a guy we met on the surface who's been helping us out a lot. But enough about that!" Undyne said with a wide grin on her face. "You have no idea how crazy things just got!"

* * *

AN: The plan was to get this out sometime before vacation ended and I succeeded at that by a slim margin, but between a sick wife and the normal holiday craziness I got a lot less done than I wanted. Such is life.  
So. This plot development comes from two places: the idea that monsters would be easily accepted on the surface after being at the very least negligent in the deaths of children is optimistic even by Undertale's standards, and the coffins are revealed to be open and empty during the post-pacifist walkabout and need to be explained. I figured, why not let each problem solve the other? We'll be checking in on the other kids periodically from here on out, but they aren't going to be major characters. They and their parents have their own lives and their own problems separate from what the monsters are up to, and while I would love to follow them I need to limit the scope of this fic if I want to finish it in a reasonable timeframe! After all, one could probably make the argument I've got too many irons in the fire as it is...


	14. The King's Speech

AN: A shorter chapter than normal this time; sorry to do this after a month without an update, but I was almost finished with the next chapter when I realized I needed this one before it to flow properly. The next chapter should be out relatively soon, but don't get used to that kind of pace. I also messed with my timeline a bit so a subplot I wasn't planning to resolve until after the timeskip will now be dealt with before it, so that also required a bit of editing. This is going to throw off the estimates for teasers I've provided in some of the comments; the events are still happening, but it might be an extra couple updates before we get to them. In exchange this chapter has a few teasers for other OCs that will show up in the future, including one I've already gotten quite a few questions about…

* * *

Asgore opened the door a tiny sliver and peeked out at the gathered reporters. Beatrice had called them here with "news concerning the children who have gone missing" but they were about to surprise them with something much bigger than they imagined. The children's families had gathered at the front of the stage, allowing Amanda to speak for all of them (Beatrice had refused outright, and the others admitted she had the best speaking voice among them). At the proper time she would give a signal for Asgore and the children to join them on stage, and then Asgore would give a short speech and that would be it for today. Asgore formulated what he was going to say in his head; he had nothing pre-written and little time to prepare, hardly ideal circumstances for a speech. Still, he had gotten rather good at delivering them over the past thousand years. He could do this. Probably.

"Let us go out ahead of you," Lilly suggested. "If they see you first they might panic; they still might anyway, but if they see us calmly walking with you they'll understand you aren't dangerous."

He took in a breath. "Yes, let's do that. That's… awfully insightful of you." She smiled at the praise but did not elaborate further. He turned to the Integrity child and asked, "Will you be alright, Rebecca? I heard about your injury. It's not too late to get a chair or cane for you."

She shook her head, keeping her chin down. "I'm… I'll be fine. Standing isn't a problem, I just put my weight on my other leg. I walked through the Underground after all, even if I had to stop and rest a bunch." She swallowed and asked, "Are you going to tell them… about what I did?"

Asgore shook his head. "There won't be time for that. I doubt we can even elaborate on my crimes, let alone any of yours. We don't want to confuse them with too much all at once."

"Oh. Oh, I see." A pause. "I wish we could get it over with. I hate this feeling. Like… they're going to let me start going back to a normal life, but at any moment they could swoop in and lock me up and there isn't anything I could do about it. I can't even say I wouldn't deserve it. But… if I'm going to be punished, I want them to get it over with and if I'm not to just tell me that."

"Sword of Damocles," Tyrone provided without looking at her. "The term is, 'a sword of Damocles'."

"Oh, just shut up," Marijane spat. "Nobody cares what it's called."

"Children," Asgore said pleadingly. "It's fine if you feel a bit uncomfortable, but let's get along for just a little longer. You will not have to say anything, let me do the speaking." Marijane held her glare on Tyrone for a moment longer and turned away in a huff. Well, at least they stopped.

He looked out the door again to lock eyes with Amanda, who nodded only once. Showtime. Asgore opened the door and ushered the children through. Immediately the press corps began chattering excitedly, murmuring in surprise. Asgore came through last. As soon as he stepped into view the whispering stopped instantly, like a thick blanket had been thrown over the entire room. Asgore did not look out to see what kind of faces they were making. They were not screaming or drawing weapons, and that was as good as he hoped for. He nodded to the parents, took his place behind the podium, and began.

* * *

 _Excerpted from "My First Speech on the Surface", by Asgore Dreemurr_

"I come to you today with hope and humility. I am aware that our appearance can be shocking. I know we defy many of your cherished beliefs simply by the nature of our existence. There is so much I wish to say. I want to tell you about our history as an exiled people living under a mountain, lonely and forgotten. I want to tell you about our heartaches, our struggles, our triumphs that, while small to you, were the whole world for us. I want to tell you about our way of life, our holidays, our feasts, our games. I want to tell you about souls and magic and the barrier that kept us imprisoned. There is so, so much you have to know.

"But there will be time enough for all of that. Before anything else is possible, there is one message more important than all the others. One thing you must know and accept before I can talk about anything else. And I hope you are receptive to this message, or nothing we have done and nothing we will do will have any meaning. That message is this: we, the monsters, wish only to live in peace with humankind."

* * *

In a dive bar a baseball game clicked off in favor of a special report. A hush descended as the news anchor informed the patrons of missing children, returned unharmed and unaged. Then Asgore appeared. The King of the Monsters. He was huge, with massive horns on his head, but despite this it was difficult to be afraid of him over the television screen. His protruding snout, his wide eyes, his floppy ears attempting to hide unsuccessfully behind his golden mane, all combined to make him look more goofy than scary. But even through a light alcohol-induced haze it was clear to everyone what he represented: a shifting of the tides. A changing of the seasons. People would look back and think in terms of whether something happened before the monsters, or after the monsters. Nothing would be the same.

On one side of the bar a police officer, recently resigned, glanced up from his drink. They want peace, huh? See how far that gets them. Darnell Weare scoffed and turned back to his beer, even though the rest of the patrons stared at the television with rapt attention. It was not his business. It was not his problem.

On the other side of the establishment a portly man with a lampshade mustache saw the massive Asgore out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was on everyone else. He was looking for something in their faces and found it readily, masked by surprise, disguised as awe: fear. He could use that fear. He personally did not feel that fear; he considered himself beyond such things. But change created anxiety, and in an effort to ease that anxiety people could be pushed in particular directions. A clever man, a man like Byron Rickford, could guide people toward his own ends. But not here, not now, he needed to be careful about this. He said a silent apology to the monsters, the only one he would ever offer, as visions of money and power danced in his head.

* * *

"Over the past thirty years six children fell into Mt. Ebbot. They each had their own reasons for coming. None suspected they would find us, an entire kingdom of monsters trapped underground. I will not attempt to make excuses or hide the truth. We could not return the children back to their homes, and the Underground should have been safe for them but was not. I tried to protect them and failed. They did indeed lose their lives. But in what I can only describe as an inexplicable miracle they are here before us, alive. I do not mean to make light of the situation, or to say they are unharmed. They have been returned to a world where all their old friends have grown out of their reach, their parents have aged, and the world today is different from the one they left behind. They may have their lives but their old worlds are gone. This is not a crime to be taken lightly.

"We promise the full story, so our actions and failures can be judged in totality. It is our intention to answer all your questions and satisfy your curiosity. For today, let it be enough to celebrate these families being reunited, and take their joy as an omen of our bright future."

* * *

Governor Patrick Kimall had been prepared to welcome the monsters at first, but he had his doubts over whether the people of his state would really be so open toward them. The children added a new wrinkle to the political calculations; the children were alive, yes, but they had not aged. Had they traveled forward in time? Or had they died and been revived, as Asgore claimed? Or perhaps they were clones? Every theory seemed ridiculous, but extraordinary circumstances required extraordinary explanations. He had his people put out a cautious but optimistic statement that he was monitoring the situation but had no reason to suspect the monsters were a threat at this time. Not confirming himself to anything, leaving plenty of wiggle room to adjust to public opinion. He did send along an apology to the president, insisting his state could not accommodate international refugees with this sudden and unexpected influx of domestic refugees. So that was one goal reached.

Mayor Wilma Cole was less prepared. She had been ready with a statement to denounce the violence of monsters and their roles in the death of children, but with the children alive after all she was forced to abandon it. How could she have predicted this? Had Asgore lied about the children's deaths for no clear reason? Or was he telling the truth about them returning to life? It was hard to tell which was more crazy. She met with her advisers and confidantes to try and get a handle on what to do. The consensus was to greet them cordially, see if she could get scientists to work with them, and have them research the children and how they came back. The monsters said they had no idea how they came back to life, and it was probably impossible to replicate, but… you never know, right?

* * *

"There was a seventh child, one we have been unable to bring closure to. They vanished from the surface thirty one years ago, and despite our efforts there is no trace of them we could find. The only clue we can provide is a name: 'Chara'. I make this plea not for myself or my people, but for the family and friends they left behind. If anyone listening knows anything about this child, I implore you; let the world know. Let this child know that, though they are gone, they have not been forgotten."

* * *

She was a director in the middle of filming what she hoped to be the film that finally won her an Academy Award. She maintained strict discipline on the set; no unauthorized devices, no visitors, no discussion of non-work topics, no distractions. The families of the actors, tradesmen, assistants, and other assorted crew could call and reach the set only in a matter of life or death, and every call was thoroughly screened. When shooting was done for the day everyone else would retreat to their beds and turn on their devices for the first time that day. Some of them would get the news then, many others would not until filming was done. The director was one of these; her husband knew how important it was for her to maintain her focus, and that she would be completely unable to do so if she heard this news. So he told her things were fine and how their daughter was getting along and nothing at all about monsters in her old hometown. Even after filming ended her work was not done; she would have to review footage, make notes, send directions to the CG people and a thousand and one other sets of boring drudge work that went into making a film. It was not even worth coming up for air; her self-imposed exile from the world outside her creative efforts continued long after it ended for everyone else.

Carol Caroli would have been very interested in Asgore's speech. But she did not hear it, and would not hear of it for nearly a month.

* * *

"The coming months and years may prove challenging. No one can predict exactly the path we will take, but if I strain my eyes I see where we can end up. I see a world where human and monster eat, work, and live side by side without hate or fear. I see a world where a human couple asks their monster neighbor to babysit, secure that their children will be safe with them. I see a world where humanity and monsterkind push each other to ever greater heights, doing more together than they ever could alone, until the day comes when we no longer think of them as separate at all but a single unified harmonious melding of peoples. It is my greatest, most fervent hope that someday that world will become a reality. I would be grateful, and immeasurably honored, if all of you here and all of you listening could keep that world in your hearts until that day comes."

* * *

The local news crews had not been prepared for revelations of such magnitude as what they got, but that would not be the case going forward. From the moment they stepped out into the open tomorrow every media organization in the country would be clamoring for a look and a word from the monsters, the first known case of truly sapient life on earth aside from humans. Asgore, Toriel, and Papyrus would have their days filled, and that meant a temporary end to the home-cooked meals. On his way back home Silas ran through the drive-thru, delivering food that at least no one had to cook.

Not that this satisfied Papyrus. "Greasebombs? Ugh, and I thought Grillby's was the nadir of foodstuffs."

"No worries," Marty said, handing him a box while holding up a small package of fries in his other hand. "Got your salad right here. Oh and Silas, here are the unsalted ones."

Silas reached over and took the offered starch sticks. "Thank _you_. Frisk, I have the kids meal." Frisk accepted it with grabby hands and escaped to the couch to give the grown-ups room to discuss their grown-up things. Besides, cartoons weren't going to watch themselves.

Asgore unwrapped his sandwich and set it on the table, applying a low flame to it. Toriel clicked her tongue. "Asgore, I think it's plenty warm enough."

"I know," he said. "I'm turning it into monster food. I don't like how human food sits inside me."

"There is no reason to be so rude," Toriel admonished, taking a bite of her burger. She chewed, swallowed… then got a strange look on her face. After a moment she conjured a flame in one hand and held the rest of her meal up to it, shooting a glare at Asgore. "Stop that."

Asgore smiled innocently. "I said nothing."

"You do not have to, I know that look." Which was only stranger when one realized she could not even see his face from her angle.

"Anyway," Asgore rumbled. "It looks as though we're going to be very busy for the foreseeable future. Things went better than we had any right to expect, but I can't help but feel we aren't out of the clear. The children are alive, yes, but can it really be that simple? Could I not still be arrested and tried?"

Silas threw up his hands. "What would they charge you with? It can't be kidnapping because it's the barrier's fault they could not leave. It can't be murder because you did not kill them yourself and never explicitly told anyone to murder a human. It can't even be incitement to violence: 'Every human must die' lacks a call for immediate action. And hate speech, while not protected, is not a crime in and of itself."

Toriel clenched her jaw and the flame in her hand doubled in size. "Are you telling me, after all this, humans think Asgore did nothing wrong?!"

"No, I am saying he did nothing _illegal_. Big difference."

Toriel shook her head, mindfully reducing her flame back to normal. "There ought not to be."

Papyrus added, "It is surely a great boon to Silas' profession and to our lives on the surface that there is!" He then took a long sip from his cup of soda, only to pause and put it back down. "I am sorry to bother you Silas, but may I have a towel? I have spilled my drink." Marty tossed over a few napkins, which Papyrus began applying to the seat of their chair.

"Let's go over our plans for tomorrow," Silas said. "I have my day job, so I'll be out before everyone else is up. Marty, you'll drive Frisk to school. So far same as normal. Then you can get Asgore, Toriel, and Papyrus where they need to go. Are you going to need him on standby?"

"No, we were invited to a number of gatherings already. We are scheduled to be in a summit with Governor Kimball and Mayor Cole for all of tomorrow and most of the next day. Many news outlets want interviews with us as well. We'll need his assistance at the beginning and end of the day, but in between he'll be on his own time."

"Cool, I've got my own thing to do," Marty said. "I'm gonna set up social media accounts for the monsters. We really want them to have separate ones for each monster, but for now I think it'll be okay for them to share just one. It'll make it easier to, uh, stay 'on message'."

"I'll leave that to you," Silas said. "You have a better head for that sort of thing."

"Ah, that reminds me," Asgore said. "Silas, have you been paying Marty? I feel bad imposing on him so much, and he said he had a project we could help him with if we wanted to pay him back." Marty tried to hide in Silas' peripheral vision while furiously gesturing at Asgore to _Shut up!_ , but his warnings went unheeded.

Silas frowned without turning to look at his friend. "There is so ominous I'm going to pretend I didn't hear it." Not until he could speak to Marty in private, just in case he needed to throttle him. "Anyway, I'll be meeting with Beatrice tomorrow afternoon to try and buy the land around Mt. Ebott from here. Are you all sure I can discuss that on your behalf? If I mess up you'll be the one paying the price, and business isn't the same as law. I don't know how well those skills will transfer."

"It's perfectly fine," Asgore assured him. "Today was evidence enough that neither of us could stand up to Beatrice. We trust you to negotiate on our behalf." He took a test nibble of his hamburger, though the size of his mouth made it look similar to a normal person's bite.

"I would feel a lot better if I had something to dangle in front of her nose besides your gold reserves. For instance, the secret to immortality? I've caught you making remarks that suggest you're much older than you look. If the monsters have some way to prolong their natural life, that could be a great carrot to dangle in front of an old woman's nose."

Asgore shook his head but finished swallowing before speaking. "It is not magic that has given me a long life. It is simply the way monsters are; I could not teach it to you any more than a snake could teach you how to molt. We will give her anything we have in exchange for the land, but do not promise her magic of her own or to push back time. Those things are not ours to give."

Silas studied Asgore's face, looking for a trace of deception but only seeing a few crumbs in his beard. Rats. "Okay. You don't need to worry about Frisk, I will pick them up in the afternoon then head to Beatrice's." Silas had brought up that he had nobody to watch over his foster child during the proposed meeting, and Beatrice offered to set up a playdate with her niece Lilly. Frisk readily agreed to the arrangement; not surprising, concerning their troubles with classmates at school.

Toriel nodded. "That will be well. Oh, there was something I meant to ask you. I got quite a good look at the reporters yesterday and I noticed something curious. I saw many people with brown eyes, or blue eyes, or green eyes, but none of them were red. How often do humans have red eyes?"

Marty answered, "You know, Frisky-bits here is the only person with red eyes I've ever met."

Silas agreed, "I know it can also happen in the case of albinism but outside of that I've never heard of it. It must be extremely rare."

"Is that so?" A smile crept onto her face and she looked away from the table. "Is that so…?"


	15. The Monsters Are Due at Weymouth

AN: The last two weeks have _sucked_. Don't know when I'll have the next chapter up, but it will probably be a short-ish one, then we'll hop forward a month or so to see how things have progressed.

WARNING: This chapter contains references to sexual assault. It also includes a scene featuring a non-binary character prior to their coming out as non-binary and referring to themselves with gendered pronouns.

* * *

 _Beatrice Lincoln sat behind the desk, her younger sister and her brother-in-law seated on the opposite side. She looked only briefly at her security detail, and the suited men nodded back at her from their corners of the room. Everything was in place. They were ready to move. Beatrice addressed her guests, "I called you both because I have new information about your daughter."_

 _Both of Lilly's parents perked up. "You do? Do you know where Lilly is? Do you know what's happened to her?"_

 _Beatrice's smile thinned. "In a way. You see, today I received a package in the mail sent by Lilly herself. The return address was your home in Connecticut. I thought about calling you as soon as it arrived, but it appears to have been postmarked from before your visit. I thought that was so very strange; if she wanted to give me something, why wouldn't she have simply brought it with her and given it to me directly? Suspicion is the older and wiser sibling of curiosity, so I took it upon myself to investigate its contents first." She held up a USB stick, her stare piercing Lilly's father. "This was all it contained." Mr. Randolph's smile vanished in an instant. He reflexively tried to snatch it out of her hand but Beatrice was too fast, pulling it out of his reach. "Don't even try it, this is just a copy. That reaction tells me you know what was on it. Shall I elaborate?" Her smile disappeared and her eyes burned with a righteous fury. "You scum. A hidden camera. For your own_ daughter! _"_

" _I never touched her!" he slammed his hands on the desk. Then he said, more quietly, "I… know what it looks like. But I never laid a hand on her, I never would have hurt her, never! I just… I wanted to keep an eye on her. Appreciate her for the woman she was becoming. It was my pride as a father, nothing improper. And it was a victimless crime, it would have been if she hadn't-"_

" _Stop. If you expect me to sympathize with your absurd declaration that it's Lilly's fault for finding out, you have another think coming." Beatrice sighed. "Well. I suppose the important thing is what we're going to do about it."_

 _Mr. Randolph squeezed his knees and looked to his wife for support, finding none. She was staring straight ahead, hands knotted around the straps of her purse. "And what are you going to do?" she asked. "Surely, nothing too drastic. We're all family, we can find a quiet solution."_

 _Beatrice's gaze was like a glacier, freezing her guests in place. "This is a criminal matter. Even if I were inclined to help you my hands are tied when it's this serious. I really do have no choice but to report you to the police and will do so in three days. Well… there is one other possibility. I am not so cruel a woman as to drag a dead man and his widow through the mud. It would not benefit anyone to expose your crimes after you were beyond any earthly punishment, wouldn't you say?"_

 _The Randolphs both looked at each other, fear in their faces. Mrs. Randolph spoke first, "Wh-what are you saying?"_

 _Beatrice shook her head in tiny movements. "Are you intentionally being obtuse or do you think I'll balk if I say it out loud? Mr. Randolph, in three days the daily newspaper will contain either a report on the contents of this thumb drive or your obituary. Your choice entirely. But if you want to protect your legacy and reputation… well, it would be best to get ahead of things." Before either of them could respond two members of Beatrice's security staff clapped their hands on Mr. Randolph's shoulders. "Escort him from the premises, and refuse him entry if he ever returns. Goodbye, brother-in-law. I'll see you in the papers, one way or the other."_

" _You bitch!" he shouted as he was dragged away. "I never hurt anyone! I'll haunt you! I'll wait for you in hell you-" And then the door slammed shut and the rest of his shouts were drowned out._

 _Beatrice's sister sighed heavily. "Well," she said finally. "I think that's the first time I've ever seen you so angry. I disagree with how you chose to handle that, but the important thing is Lilly's safety. Thank you, for bringing this to my attention. I can't believe I married such a disgusting man, but I'm grateful to you for-"_

" _I thought you would have picked up on it by now," Beatrice interrupted her, voice laden with disappointment. "I am angry, yes, but it was Lilly who gave me the authority to act in this way. You must have told her about my, ahem,_ reputation _as a tyrant and a ruthless person. She sent these items to me just before your trip here, then vanished. I suspect she intends to return in a few days after everything is sorted out. She was not kidnapped and she is not lost. She fled to give enough time for her materials to arrive in my hands and for me to react in whatever way I saw fit. Right now I am acting as Lilly's agent of divine retribution, not yours." Beatrice picked up her cup of tea from the saucer, taking her sister's silence as capitulation. "Now tell me, why would she do things in such a roundabout way if she could trust her mother with these accusations? The answer is, 'because she can't'. She likely went to you first and… hm." She swirled the tea around in the cup, watching it coat the edges as she gathered her thoughts. "You have an election this year, it would not do for a scandal to come out now. You told her to keep quiet, didn't you? Either directly telling her so for the sake of your career, or indirectly by not believing her."_

" _H-How dare you?!" Mrs. Randolph sputtered. "I don't have to listen to this, not even from you! I am her mother, and-"_

" _Not anymore you aren't," Beatrice kneecapped her sister before swallowing her last mouthful of tea. "You will drop out of the race and away from the public eye. If you ever try to make a name for yourself I will have this lovely little blackmail material to crush your dreams before they can take shape. In addition, you will sign all parental rights of Lilly Randolph over to me, effective immediately and irrevocably. You will not attempt to contact her. You will not attempt to worm yourself back into her life. You will not attempt to take revenge on her. Disappear, and never approach either of us again."_

 _Mrs. Randolph squeezed her hands into fists, tears of frustration squeezing out. Two more of the suit-clad goons approached her from each side, their presence dashing any hopes of resistance. She looked up at her sister with hate-filled eyes. "You're more of a monster than even the worst rumors say. Are you enjoying this? Do you like humiliating and destroying your own family?"_

" _I could ask the same of you," Beatrice took her sister's fury with good humor. "But let's be honest, we've grown up together. You always knew I was the type that dealt harshly with my enemies just like I know you've always prided yourself on being so clever. So calculating and so manipulative. The only reason you're this angry is that despite all your age and cunning it turns out an eleven year old girl is better at this game than you are."_

* * *

Susan's first day back at work after her illness sure was something. She had a hefty block of worksheets that her kids worked on while she was gone waiting for her, on top of her normal grading. The nurse had not made too much of a mess of things, and the kids had been relatively quiet. She had gotten a new student too- oh! She recognized that name! She looked up and there was Frisk Holder, sitting at their desk just like the updated seat plan said. She caught Frisk's attention and gave them a smile and a wave; they perked up and waved back. That was all; Susan knew exactly how hard it was for a teacher's favorite to fit in with the other kids, and she did not want them to shoulder that burden on top of everything else. Despite this she could not help but take notice of them. In class Frisk listened attentively, following her every move and focusing on her lips. But they never looked at the whiteboard and she never once saw them taking notes. Was Frisk deaf? During lunch they sat by themself, casting furtive glances around the room as though waiting for someone to invite them in. It was always rough for the new kid.

After school Frisk mentioned the buses were not stopping at their house yet so their guardian would pick them up. Susan offered to stay with Frisk until they came, swallowing a lump of dread as she did. Someone needed to make sure Frisk was picked up safely, and Susan needed to talk to Silas anyway, so it was convenient. But still, she could not help but think back to the other night when she stormed out of his place almost too angry to speak. She had not had enough time to prepare herself to see him again so soon. So when Silas's car pulled up in front of the school and the driver side door opened her breath caught in her throat.

Silas looked from Susan to Frisk and back again while he contemplated how foolish he was to have failed to predict this. "Ah, Frisk ended up in your class? That works out well."

"Yeah, I guess so." She tucked a few strands of hair back behind her ear before saying, "Hey, Sai? Are… are the monsters doing okay? I know it was kind of awkward, how I left, and-"

"Stop. You have nothing to be ashamed of. We were both under a lot of stress and needed time to process everything. You can't be blamed for thinking of them as murderers, they thought they were murderers as well until yesterday. It's… all rather complicated. Speaking of which, would you be available to take Frisk home until the bus situation is figured out? The monsters can't drive and Marty and I have our hands full with work and, well, everything already."

Susan thought for a moment. "Maybe not until Friday… I called out sick two days in a row and the paperwork piled up on me. But if you still need help after that I'd be happy to. Um, I saw Asgore and Toriel on TV, are the others…?"

"Papyrus is still here. Alphys and Undyne went back underground, apparently there were some things that needed to be done in preparation for everything." Oh, that was disappointing. She owed Undyne an apology most of all. Silas tilted his head toward Frisk. "You ready to go, Frisk?"

They nodded and waved a waggling hand. "Thank you Ms. Lee-oh!" Well, at least that was a different mispronunciation than kids typically used. She let it go and waved goodbye to Frisk.

That mispronunciation came back to her mind that night when she was grading Monday's worksheets and noticed Frisk had scored significantly lower than anyone else in the class. She had heard the news stories saying Frisk was a poor student, but this was much worse than she expected. How did they pass second grade with tests like this? Was it always this bad, or was the stress making it worse? It might be the stress. Why not? Running away, everything that happened underground, the monsters, having their living situation uprooted again… what kid wouldn't be affected by all that? Maybe she should recommend therapy. Considering their history Frisk might want or need someone to talk to about everything. Help them cope and come to terms with it. She jotted down a note to talk to Silas about these things and moved on to the next paper. There was nothing else she could do right away and it would be unfair to the other kids to brood over Frisk while everyone else's papers needing grading too.

* * *

It was hard not to be intimidated by the size and scale of Beatrice's home, even after being given ample warning by Asgore and Toriel. It was three stories tall and stretched wide in both directions. The front lawn was immaculate, with evergreens and tasteful shrubbery dotting the landscape. The only ways to reach the house were the winding mountain road, from which any potential visitor would be seen well before they reached the front gate, and the helicopter pad Silas knew was behind the house but was completely hidden from view. It made his father's house look like a fetid shack. After parking the car Silas took stock of his things: notepad, phone, pen, handkerchief, and… a bundle? It took him a moment to remember: oh yes, Toriel had seen him off this morning with a handful of cookies. She had been "stress baking" the previous night and gave him some of her goods in case he got hungry. Too late to get rid of them now, but it should not matter if one of his pockets had an extra item in it.

Silas and Frisk were led to a sitting room, the same one Toriel and Asgore had been led to though they had no way to know this. When they were announced and led in Beatrice was sitting behind her desk calmly drinking tea. Lilly was on the couch; she replaced her bookmark in her book (Silas could not read the title but it was a hardcover with no dust jacket) and stood up to greet them. "Good evening, Mr. Pembrooke. And you must be Frisk." She was a head taller than Frisk and curtsied to make eye contact. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you." Frisk held out their hand for a shake and was met promptly, which made them smile. "We're going to go to my room; I only arrived recently so I don't have much, but there are some toys and games, and I'm sure we could find a movie to watch if you like. Come along, we'll leave the adults to do their adult things."

Beatrice stopped them, holding out a glass dish filled with hard candies. "Before you go off on your playdate, child, would you like a candy? They're licorice." Frisk had been reaching for one of the candies before Beatrice had finished speaking, but retracted their hand with a forlorn look on their face when she revealed the flavor. Then they went off with Lilly, taking the older girl by the hand.

Beatrice turned her attention to Silas. "So that's the last child? How strange, to end up so close to the monsters after what must have been a harrowing ordeal."

Silas had been easing themself into a chair in front of Beatrice's desk, but stopped when Beatrice spoke. "How do you know…?"

Her smile was a thick mask. "Sh- they, disappeared for a few days, quietly returned under mysterious circumstances, and just a few days later it turns out there are monsters in the world. And they're staying with someone intimately connected with the monsters. It's hardly a giant leap of logic, others will doubtlessly make the claim before too long. But you shouldn't worry, I and the other parents have been refusing requests for interviews. We want to maintain our privacy and rebuild the relationships with our children. Frisk being responsible for the emergence of monsters will likely be a persistent rumor, but I intend to keep it as just a rumor. Oh, don't sit there, I'm not your principal. We'll move over to the table." She grunted as she stood, gripping her cane for support. She made her way to the table with slow, careful steps, her simple cane moving in time with her right foot. Silas moved to sit at the table opposite from where Beatrice was heading. He made no comment and simply waited as she pulled out a chair and sat with a thump. "There, isn't this better? Now we're meeting as equals. Thank you for agreeing to my unreasonable request to meet so soon."

Silas admitted, "The timetable works well for us, actually. I'd like to set up temporary homes for the monsters on the land currently known as the Smokey Forest campgrounds. They're going to want to move in among the general population within a few months to prevent it from becoming a ghetto, but transitional housing will make the process easier for everyone."

Beatrice nodded. "If all the monsters are in the same neighborhood it would be too easy to target them. Either through lawful means by imposing laws on the district itself, or unlawful terrorism. I see you've put some thought into this. But you still need that land, yes? Since you're in such a hurry to get to business, why don't you give me your starting offer?"

Even Silas felt dirty for what he was about to pull. "Are you sure you can't just let them have it? You must have given Lilly up for dead, like the other families. But it's because of the monsters that they are alive now and can pick up their childhood where they left off. Don't you think you owe the monsters some gratitude for that? Can you put a price on your niece's life? Especially after your prank, tricking them and all the other families into thinking you were going to kill Asgore. Unless all of you knew…?"

Beatrice shook her head slowly. "The other families were not expecting that, no. Only I knew they were alive. The children led by my Lilly came to this house on foot last Friday. They were armed with fantastical stories of magic and monsters and a world under the mountain. I very nearly did not believe them, but I was convinced of Lilly's identity and gave her the benefit of the doubt. When I confirmed the existence of that cave I had no choice but to believe. You are wrong about one thing, though. It was no mere prank. I called King Dreemerr here to test him. His motives, his personality, how he handled the guilt. Lilly did not know this, but if I were not satisfied I really would have killed him." Her expression softened and she smiled warmly. "But King Dreemurr did indeed pass my little test. He did not flinch away from what he had done, and faced what might have been his end with strength and dignity. He may be a fool, but that is not the worst thing to be. I quite enjoy fools, actually. But no, I do not feel as though I owe monsters any debt. All they did was return to me what was already mine. I am certainly not going to give you anything for free because of it. There is a limit to how much cheekiness I'll put up with."

He did not actually think that would work, but it had been worth a shot. "Very well. Then we'll do a fair market exchange. The monsters may have limited liquid funds, but they have commodities that would easily fetch a good price on-"

Beatrice's barking laughter cut through his proposal with a single slash. "Silly boy, I have no need for their money. I could live on a yacht and travel around the world for the rest of my life and still never spend what I already have. So could Lilly, for that matter. I am not one of those so-called entrepreneurs who live for seeing their net worth set a new high score. I got tired of that years ago. There's no fun in it anymore. So if cash is the only thing you can offer the land is not for sale."

Now it was time to panic. Silas gripped his knee hard, trying to keep his anxiety off his face.

She took a sip from her tea, pausing as she realized another offer was slow in coming. She set down her cup, her smile a thin crease, hiding her teeth like an assassin concealing a bandoleer of daggers. "Is that all? I hope not. I would be very disappointed indeed, if you came all the way here to make demands and offering a load of nothing in return."

* * *

"This is my room," Lilly said with a twirl. "Honestly, it's been a little lonely since the other kids left. We didn't all get alone but the house is too big without anyone else my age in it."

Frisk shuffled from one end of the room to the other, poking at things as their curiosity demanded. The hardwood floor had a fine sheen, and when Frisk took off their sneakers they found their socks allowed them to skate along. The full-size bed had been expertly made, with diaphanous curtains hung up along the perimeter. An entertainment center with a large screen television dominated one wall of the room, but even with that the room was large enough to make it seem very empty. There were no posters on the wall, no stickers covering any surfaces, no decorations or even stuffed animals to fill up the space. It looked very nice, but Frisk found themself agreeing with Chara when they remarked, "It's a nice room but it doesn't feel like anyone lives here." After a pause they added, "… You are familiar with rooms that feel like this."

Lilly looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening in before leaning in close to Frisk. "Um, Frisk? Tell me… is Chara alright? I can see them a little bit, but they're very faded. And when they speak I have to strain my ears to hear them."

Frisk half-expected Chara to freak out that someone was able to see them, but they were taking this in stride. Did they already know? In any case they looked the same as ever. Frisk shook their head.

Chara explained, "I certainly don't feel like I'm fading away. I think it's just you." They put their head down and tapped against their lower lip with their index finger. "It's probably related to you giving back the piece of my soul. Without that your ability to perceive my existence must be waning… in a few days you might not be able to see me at all."

Lilly sighed in relief. "Thank goodness you're okay! I know we didn't have a good relationship underground… at least, not as good as you two have. I…" she sighed. "I couldn't get you past the hallway. I couldn't get you to trust me enough for my words to matter. And… I gave up. I let you die because I couldn't figure out what else to do. But I'm glad some part of you survived. I hope the piece of your soul I gave back is helping."

"A little," Frisk said. "I can touch them now!"

"And they let you?" Lilly had the barest hint of a smirk. "That's wonderful. But I admit, I called you both here in private because I have a message for you, from Tyrone. He had some things to tell you both, very important things." She stared seriously into Frisk's face, all trace of amusement gone. "It's about Chara's magic."

"My _what?!_ " Chara put a hand to their chest, nose turned up. "I… I don't have magic! I never learned how to use it, and don't think I didn't try!"

Frisk agreed with that, though less emphatically. "Chara wouldn't lie. Why does Ty think Chara had magic?"

Lilly explained, "He used the power of Load and Reset more than any of us. Over his resets he spent months in the capital doing research in the library and talking with experts. He found out a lot of things about the Underground and about Chara and monsters and everything, including that the potential for magic in humans hasn't gone away. Chara is a prodigy with yellow magic but theirs works differently than most monsters; he never learned whether it's because all human magic is different or whether Chara is unique. Instead of transmitting energy Chara can send and receive memories, both their own and others. That's why all of us would suddenly imagine little snippets of Chara's life in the underground: it was Chara's magic!"

Frisk crossed their arms. "So the whole time they were getting mad at me for seeing their membories, it was really _their_ fault."

Chara rolled their eyes. "That's what's so great about you Frisk, you never lose sight of what's important. Wait a minute, if that was being done by magic how come your soul never appeared when it happened?"

Lilly shrugged. "Ty thought it was because of the connection between your souls. Chara doesn't need to expand their magic field because your souls are connected directly, and so your soul won't appear when Chara uses magic on you. It was the same with us, when we went through the underground with Chara. Ty said he tried learning magic too but never got the hang of it. The problem is expanding the magic field; monsters can do it as easily as breathing, but the technique must be different for humans. Unless… there was one thing he never tried. Chara, you were taught how to expand your field, yes?"

Chara blew air out with their lips in a tight "o", their eyes widening to show how hugely inadequate their experience was. "If you put literally all the scare quotes around the word 'taught'. I know the steps monsters take to do it but it never worked for me."

"Have you tried it since you became a ghost?" Chara paused, then shook their head. "Then try it now. On me."

"Alright, I guess it's worth a shot." Chara inhaled through their nose and held out their hand, staring at Lilly intently.

 _Focus on your whole being, take notice of the rhythm of your heart and the wriggling of your toes and the synapses firing in your brain and everything in between. Imagine a second 'self' layered over the first, taking up the same space on a physical level once removed from the one you know. Your aura, your magic field._

Chara swore they could feel it. They could sense it, like a syrupy thickness in the air. They imagined it bending to their will. They ordered it to move as they commanded. They tried to reach out with their aura, imagining it oozing forward like protoplasm as they exhaled in a long, slow breath. This turned into a scream as a pale blue heart appeared on Lilly's chest only to vanish just as quickly when Chara recoiled. "W-Wait! I wasn't ready for that to work, let me do it again." Again they stretched out their magic field, and almost immediately Lilly's soul appeared again.

"It's a little… spikier, then I remember a monster's aura being," Lilly pointed out. "But it's definitely a magic field, and its definitely yours. Congratulations, Chara."

Frisk applauded with enthusiasm. The heart disappeared again and Chara stared at their hands in disbelief. "I… I have magic," they said in a daze. Then more forcefully, "I can use magic! But… why now? Why not when I was alive?"

Lilly shook her head. "I don't know, I think it's something you should look into. Tyrone tried to learn magic over their many Resets and failed, but you have practical knowledge of how monsters expand their aura and as of right now the only human with any experience in doing so. If anyone can figure out how, it's you. So that's what I wanted to ask you: Chara, will you help humans learn how to use magic again?"

Chara scoffed, "Why should I? I don't see why I should do humans any favors. Not to mention the last time humans had magic they created the barrier. I don't want to be the one to hand humans the power to lock up the monsters again."

"Even if humans learned magic again, they're decades if not centuries away from recreating a spell like the barrier. By that time monsters will be a fact of life. Besides…" Lilly gave Chara the novice version of Beatrice's smile. "I know you, Chara. I know how much you love a good puzzle. And now that you know this one exists and the solution is just out of reach, your curiosity will gnaw at you for weeks until you finally break down and do it just so you can say you solved it."

Chara's smile strained at its bonds. "Wow! You are super fast at pissing me off!"

"Come on you two!" Frisk played at peacemaker. "You might not see each other again, be nice."

Lilly's smile went back to normal. "You're right. Chara, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to get on your nerves."

Chara huffed. "Yeah, okay. Apology accepted."

"How about we play a game?" Lilly offered. "Do either of you know chess?"

Frisk raised their hand, prompting a double-take from Chara. "Mostly," Frisk admitted. "I know how the pieces move. I'm not very good at the game."

"I know all of them except the little ones," Chara said. "I've seen puzzles based around how the other ones move and figured out from those, but nobody ever makes puzzles about pawns."

"Then we can teach you," Lilly suggested as she pulled out a wooden checkerboard. It was a very plain set like the kind you could pick up in any hobby shop; Frisk has been half-expected all the pieces to be solid gold or something, but it was a nice if basic Palisander board with wooden pieces. "Frisk and I first to show Chara the rules, then Chara can play the loser to get a feel for the game. I would like to say I'll go easy on you Frisk… but the truth is I'm not very good either. May the best person win."

* * *

Silas gripped his knees tightly. They gave her niece back already. The monsters could not offer to extend her life. Their money could not buy the land if she was not willing to sell. Beatrice had made it clear she did not value companions, and even if Silas offered his legal services he had no doubt she made much more senior attorneys on retainer. So what now? What could he possibly give that she could want? What _did_ she want?

His hand went into his pocket and closed around the bundle of cookies Toriel gave him that morning. His mind cleared. His breathing slowed. It was a crazy idea, but he was sure he could make it work. Maybe he did not have a clear picture of how to get there in his mind but there was a rough path to the place Beatrice could help the monsters. "I do have another suggestion," he said, pulling out the bundle. "But before that, may I interest you in a light snack?"

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. "Homebaked goods? That's a quick way to get poisoned, you know." Her eye sparkled with mirth.

"I assure you with all sincerity they are not dangerous, but I do insist you try one. Toriel baked it with her own magic, and… well, you'll see when you take a bite." He unwrapped the bundle and passed one of the cookies over. They looked like simple butter cookies in a variety of shapes, completely unremarkable at first glance.

Beatrice picked it up with long gnarled fingers and inspected it carefully. Not finding anything suspicious she bit into the cookie, chewed once… then got a very distant and thoughtful look on her face. She chewed twice more and swallowed, tapping the cookie against the table thoughtfully. "Oho," she said. "So you lied to me. Food with the same effect as golden flower tea is much more dangerous than poison, from a certain point of view. Out with it then: what's your plan?" She tossed the rest of the cookie into her mouth while she waited on his response.

He had her interest. Now to get her attention. "You currently share the market on golden flower tea with two other moguls in Weymouth, yes? I can help you crush them, completely and utterly. Monsters have access to a method of food preparation which dwarfs anything the tea could. Imagine if you will, an entire line of snacks, sides, and meals that have the curative and energizing powers of golden flower tea, except more potent, more substantial, and with more variety. And because only monsters can use the techniques to create it we would have an absolute monopoly."

A disappointed sigh. "Money? I already told you-"

"Money doesn't motivate you, I know. But I think I know what does: spite. You didn't have to invite Asgore here for your song and dance before revealing the kids were alive all along. You could have let the families know beforehand instead of springing it on all of them. You just wanted to see him sweat. Golden flowers are a protected species; you have a waiver for harvesting them but that won't last once there are other avenues for making the same product available without them, and that applies to the other golden tea companies. Their companies will die, and most of their wealth with them. And if I'm reading you right, you won't pass up a chance to destroy your rivals."

She threw back her head with a force and speed he had thought her incapable of. She cackled into the ceiling, slapping table three times before she got herself under control. Her eyes twinkled when she looked at Silas again. "Not only are you a fast study, you're rude enough to say the quiet parts loud and ruthless enough not to care. Oh, I _like_ you."

"Odd praise, but I'll take it. What do you think about my proposal?"

"It has a certain appeal. I think there are a few details which need to be worked out. Among them I have a condition, non-negotiable. I want a seat at the table." Silas opened his mouth to ask what she meant but she rolled right ahead: "Whatever council or political action committee you end up forming for monster government and advocacy, I want a place in it. Not necessarily veto power, but at the very least a strong vote. You can't say I'm not deeply involved already and I won't abide anyone trying to force me out."

Silas considered her proposal. Was that what all this was for? What more did the monsters have that she would want? While there were still many unanswered questions it was clear this was not something he could deny her. Beatrice Lincoln was dangerous as an ally but she would be fatal as an enemy. Even if he did not trust her fully, it would be better to keep her close so everyone knew what she was up to. "Very well. I'll run it by Asgore and Toriel but I don't think there will be any serious opposition, not when the alternative is to go homeless."

"Excellent! Truly excellent. I suppose we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, then. Now then, since you're adept at legal language let us hammer out some of the particulars…"

* * *

Lilly was right; she was not very good at chess. Frisk outflanked her on the right, knocking out half her back row including her queen. Checkmate followed shortly thereafter. Now that Chara understood the game they took a shot at it; they started strong, but overextended and lost their lead. Lilly was able to beat them back to a draw, as neither of them could figure out how to manage a checkmate with two pieces each counting their kings. Afterwards Lilly showed Frisk some of her toys and stuffed animals from before she fell into the Underground; either through stubbornness or forgetfulness Beatrice had saved all her old things, even if most of them did not weather the passage of twenty four years as well as their owner had. They talked a bit about the monsters (or rather Chara and Lilly talked, Frisk felt their throat tighten and did not want to talk much), and a little about the other kids but Chara did not remember them and Lilly only knew them for the few days they stayed at Beatrice's house together. Maybe one of them would end up going to Frisk's school and they could learn more then.

After a few hours a servant informed them that Beatrice and Silas had finished their talk and were ready to take Frisk home. They returned to the main room to find the two adults packing up their things; both of them looked rather pleased. Or at least, Silas did not seem agitated; if things had gone poorly he would be scowling with his brow furrowed, but his carefully neutral expression was probably as close to actual happiness he ever got. Silas confirmed Frisk's assessment by smiling. "We're all done here," he said. "Ready to go home?"

Frisk nodded but lagged a tiny bit behind as Silas strode out of the room. As Frisk walked past Beatrice's desk they reached inside the candy bowl, pulled out a candy, unwrapped it, and stuck it in their mouth with one smooth motion. They turned to face Beatrice with a huge smile, relishing the taste as they swished the candy around their mouth with their tongue. "Mmmmmmm!" they cooed. "Dewiffouf!" Then they rushed to catch up with their foster father. They shoved the candy over to the side of their mouth with their tongue before whispering, "That, was for all your stupid ice puns in the lab."

Chara hovered behind them, unseen to most, slumped over with their hands and legs dangling in a dead man's float. They could not even raise their head. They rasped, "Frisk… if I ever get a body again… I'm going to kill you…"

Lilly watched as Frisk ran out the door, smiling softly. "Their relationship is going well, it seems."

"Whose?" Beatrice asked.

"You'll see. How did things go on your end?"

"Perfectly." Beatrice leaned back in her chair. "He came up with the idea for selling 'monster food' all on his own, just as you said he would. I also secured a spot on their planning board, whenever they happen to form it and whatever they happen to name it. That should give me plenty of chances to earn their trust."

Lilly sighed in relief. "Thank you for doing all this, Auntie. I know you'd rather be enjoying your retirement…"

"Nonsense, it was no trouble. In fact it's even been fun! But you say the next step of your plan has a time limit?"

Lilly nodded with a heavy head, her eyes downcast. "Yes. February 20th. That's when…" She swallowed and turned away.

Beatrice did not share her sense of dread. "Plenty of time, there's nothing to worry about. These things have a way of working out, if you only wait for the right moment to act." She pulled the bag of tea out of the water and took a sip. "Oh, I really am going to miss this when it's gone…"

* * *

That night Frisk buttoned up their pajamas while Chara buried their face in the corner. Chara had not said much even after recovering from the licorice. They floated along with their brow furrowed, stroking their locket with a far-off look in their eye. "Are you okay?"

Chara clenched and unclenched their fists. "That girl… she got under my skin. I don't want humans to get magic again and I certainly don't want to be the one to help them do it. But damn it all, she's right about one thing. It's bugging me that I can use magic as a ghost when I couldn't as a human. I can't stop thinking about it, it doesn't make sense."

"I'm done, you can turn back around now." Chara did so as Frisk considered the problem. "Maybe we could ask Toriel for help. The monsters know lots about magic, maybe we could purtend the magic's mine and get lessons from her."

Chara held up their arms in an "x". "No way. In order to 'prove' you have magic I'd have to get them in my field. You remember what I said, that how a magic field feels tells you about the person? If I do that they'll immediately know it's me, and-"

"And then you can tell them you're here! You can-"

"I refuse." Chara's body became very still and their voice was strained. "I… I can't do that. Not now, maybe not ever."

"They still care about you," Frisk said as they got into bed. "They should know."

"Well I don't want them to know!" The vehemence with which Chara shouted nearly knocked Frisk over. They whirled to stare at their friend's back while Chara exhaled through their nose and let their hackles lower. "No offense, but I don't really like that you know about my life on the surface. You know I only told you to try and hurt you, right? There's no reason for them to dig up all that old history. They're wasting their time. I only ever got out of the house in the middle of the night after everyone else in the village was asleep. Barely anyone knew I even existed. Nobody's been searching for me or missing me. You heard the news, right? 'Seven' missing kids. No one on the surface even remembers an eighth kid before all the others. What are the monsters going to dig up that humans haven't already?"

Frisk protested, "But there has to be someone! Even if it's a teacher or a pomicelan, there has to be someone who knows you! You existed!"

"I didn't. And I don't, not anymore. There's no one who could tell Toriel and Asgore about me and no one who cares about what my ultimate fate was."

An idea came to Frisk. "What about your sister?"

Chara's fingernails dug into their arm. "What about her?"

"Don't you think she misses you?"

"No. I don't. And if she does she can keep on missing me, because I don't want to see her."

"But-!"

"Besides, what would you tell them if they asked how you learned all about me?" This brought Frisk up short. "There, you see? The only way you could explain how you knew that is by confessing the dead kid who ruined their marriage is haunting you."

"I still want to do that."

Chara growled, "Don't. You. Dare."

"I know," Frisk said. "I'm not gonna. 'M still gonna try to talk you into it."

"My answer won't change." This was for the best. Toriel and Asgore were never going to find out who Chara was on the surface without any hints, and that meant no one but Frisk would know what led them underground. It was a chapter of their life they could put behind them. It was done, a loose end that would never get tied up, and as far as Chara was concerned that was the best way for it to end.

Toriel's voice came along with a soft knock at the door, "Frisk? Are you ready for bed?"

Frisk lifted one corner of the covers and slid inside. "Yup!"

The door clicked open and Toriel came in, sighing heavily. "Well! It certainly does not appear as though things will let up soon. I am sorry I cannot make more time for you, but I will absolutely make sure to wish you a good night at least. Do you want a bedtime story?" Frisk shook their head. Being read to sounded nice, but they were feeling tired already and there was something they definitely wanted to do before they slept. Toriel smiled and tucked the covers around them. "Alright. I am going to turn out the light now. Good night, dream well." She kissed Frisk on the forehead and shut off the light, closing the door after her.

As soon as that was done Frisk got Chara's attention before they could sneak away. "Hey, before we go to bed… can we try something?" Chara tilted their head to the side. "Can you… read my membories?"

"Uh." Chara tapped their fingers against their chin. "I… don't think I can do that."

"Lilly said you should be able to. It's not fair if I'm the only one that gets to see yours. We're friends, right?"

"That's an odd definition of friendship." They scratched at the side of their neck. "But I guess we can try. It would be good practice if nothing else. Try thinking of a memory you want me to see. Only something you're okay with showing me, all right?" Frisk nodded and sat very still. "Alright… here I go."

Here was where Chara was brought up short. What were they supposed to do now? Was there a muscle they were supposed to flex, if they furrowed their brow really hard would that do it, or did they have to consciously try and imagine whatever they thought Frisk might be thinking-

* * *

 _The chair Frisk was sitting in was too large for a five year old. Her legs dangled and she kicked them back and forth. She was beginning to outgrow her overalls, only adding to her discomfort. Only by sitting up straight could they raise their head high enough to see over the desk and to the woman seated at it._

" _Alright Frisk," Ms. Ashland said with a plastic smile. "Sorry it's been longer than I said it would be. There's lots of kids that need help and I can only do so much. But I'm here now, and I'm here for you. How is it at the group home? Are you doing okay?"_

"' _M fine," she replied, rubbing her upper arm. It was mostly true, as group homes went this one wasn't bad. It was the kind of place which could be tolerated, though she would never like them. That thought brought up what she really wanted to talk about, making her even more nervous than before. But she had to say it. Ms. Ashland wouldn't help if Frisk didn't say anything. "Um, can I ask somefing?"_

" _Anything, Frisk."_

 _Well, here goes. "If a mommy and a daddy come by and ask about kids, do they know they want a boy or a girl?"_

 _Ms. Ashland nodded. "Sometimes, yes."_

" _Then… if they want a girl, you give them my name?"_

" _And the names of other girls too. It depends on what they're looking for."_

" _Then…" Deep breath. "If they say they want a boy, can you tell them about me too?"_

 _Ms. Ashland's smile took some damage. She set her pen down and stared at Frisk. "Are you asking me to lie to them?"_

" _It won't be a lie!" Frisk shouted. "I'll be a boy, I'll be the best boy ever and they'll never know! The other kids all say I'm more like a boy anyway, so why can't you tell them I'm a boy if that's what they want? Pleeeeeeaaaaaase?"_

 _Ms. Ashland sucked in air between her teeth and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees in that way grown-ups did when they're trying to explain something so simple they did not understand it. "Well Frisk, I want you to think about that. If you're going to live as a boy you'd have to wear boy's clothes, and play boy's sports, and have boy interests. Would you really be okay with that, forever?"_

 _Frisk thought about it. Honestly, it was pretty close to what she was doing already. And yes, it would be a lie, but it did not feel like one. At least, it did not make her feel uncomfortable the way a real lie did. "That'd be okay."_

 _This set Ms. Ashland aback. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "… So, what if they were looking for a girl? What if they asked you to put on dresses and makeup and wear pink?"_

 _Frisk thought about that too. Really tried to imagine it. And that did not sound distasteful to her either. Maybe it would get uncomfortable if they couldn't wear shorts or pants ever, boys' clothes had a lot more and deeper pockets, but it was not as though they hated wearing dresses as long as they were pretty. It was no more wrong than the alternative. "That'd be okay too."_

 _Ms. Ashland did not respond. She steepled her fingers and inhaled through her nose before sighing deeply. "Frisk," she began. "I've been thinking about something for a while. You wear hair ribbons with your jeans and baseball caps with your skirts. When someone hesitates before calling you a boy or a girl, in that moment you smile with genuine joy. I'm not saying that's bad, but I want you to hear some words that might help you. You don't have to be sure right now. It's fine to think about it for a while. But… there are more than just boys and girls. There are people that are born as one but realize they're the other as they grow up."_

 _Frisk nodded. "Like Aidan! She was a boy before but now she's a girl." She understood so far, but where was Ms. Ashland going with this?_

" _Yes. But there are also people who are both, either in their body or their soul. And there are people who are neither. They might not feel fully comfortable being either, so they don't go by 'he' or 'she'. They might prefer being called 'they', or 'zir', or other pronouns. Do you think you aren't a boy or a girl? That you're both, or neither?"_

 _That clicked off something in her head. Frisk thought and thought and thought. Neither? Was that allowed? She had never even considered that might be an option. So what about it? What would it feel like, to not be a "he" or a "she" but a "they"? She looked at the idea, sniffed at it, put it in her mouth and rolled it around. And she… no,_ they _found it to their liking. Like a ball bearing rolling around wildly on a table that found a nice divot to fall into, so they stayed still and content even as the table continued to tilt and shift. "That sounds right. I like that. It fits me."_

 _They expected Ms. Ashland to be happy. Instead her smile died on their lips and she sighed. "You… you really like to make my job difficult." She replaced her smile. "Okay, Frisk. I'll update your records to say you're 'non-binary'. That means you don't think of yourself as a boy or a girl."_

 _They perked up. "And that'll make it easier to get a home?"_

 _The grown-up paused and smiled thinly. "It'll make it easier to find you a good home that will accept you for who you are."_

 _Frisk did not quite catch the full meaning of that response, but they somehow got the idea that they should not be as happy about this as they were._

* * *

Chara recoiled, putting as much distance between them and Frisk as they could. Frisk tilted their head up to look at them but they did not seem embarrassed or hostile. Did they not notice? "Sorry," Chara apologized. "I… I didn't think it would really work."

"I didn't feel nothing." Frisk leaned forward. "But you saw it? Why I don't like that lady?"

Frisk's phrasing was a little odd, they thought. "I saw she helped figure out you're an enby."

"I wish I weren't," Frisk said as they poked their pillow. "It'd be easy if I could be a girl or a boy, whatever people wanted. Whichever would make me… fit better into a family. If she hadn't said that, maybe I still could. But… calling myself a boy or girl seemed wrong, after that. Like I was only half a person. I mean, it felt wrong before, but now I knew why it felt wrong and I couldn't ignore it. I _had_ to be a 'they'. Like I couldn't be happy if I weren't."

They could not believe they were having this conversation. What Chara knew of non-binary people was half-remembered information gleaned from internet records more than thirty years old at this point. "It's not like her telling you about it made you non-binary," Chara chided. "You always were this way. She just… helped you find what you were. I think that's a good thing, ultimately."

"Is that what it was like for you?"

"Aaaaaaand that's where this conversation ends."

"Come on! I told you my story, why can't you tell me yours?"

"I don't want to talk about it, and it isn't an interesting story even I wanted to tell you. Now drop it."

Frisk pouted but they knew very well badgering Chara did not work, and in fact would be counter-productive. They laid their head down on the pillow. "Okay. Good night, Chara."

Chara floated to their normal sleeping spot a few feet above Frisk's bed. "Good night, Frisk." Within a few moments they had vanished. Secure in the knowledge their friend was okay, Frisk was not long after them in falling asleep.


	16. Trust In Us

AN: Sorry for the long wait with a shorter-than usual chapter to break the fast, I originally had a longer storyline in place to wrap up this subplot but the more I wrote the worse it got? So I had to course change to something shorter but more true to the characters.

* * *

They had not been careful enough. They trusted too much to luck. They had gotten too complacent. That was how they ended up in this mess.

As she promised Ms. Liao offered to take Frisk home on Friday. It was a little weird, knowing their teacher personally. They had always thought of teachers as a creature that only existed inside a school, not as a person who had their own lives outside of it. But they first met Susan outside the classroom, with a cute sweater and a big smile in the middle of the woods at night, and only later were they introduced to Ms. Liao their teacher. Teachers were people too. It was so obvious when they thought about it, but their brain seemed unwilling to consider it before now. Susan (as they decided to think of her anytime they were not in class) owned an orange compact car with only two doors and no back seat. Ordinarily Frisk didn't like orange, but on such a tiny vehicle it was adorable. This was the kind of car Frisk wanted when they were grown up, small and cute. They hopped into the passenger side of the vehicle, putting their backpack between their legs while Susan started the car with a tiny whir that was more of a purr than the growl they were used to hearing from cars.

The ride home was quick, and Frisk used their spare key to open the front door while Susan followed. Seeing how the rest of the household had not yet returned Susan took it on herself to babysit as well. "I'm not going to let you be a latchkey kid!" she had said with a laugh. She brought a bag with her, which they were suspicious about at first, but she pulled a few books and papers from it and started grading old papers and preparing for next week's lessons. In hindsight they should have known something was up when they peeked inside the bag and saw a folder she very deliberately did not pull out.

Silas was home first by only a few minutes; he had not yet even removed his tie when the rented vehicle drove into the garage, Marty with the monsters in tow. Toriel brightened on seeing their week-old human friend. "Susan! It is good to see you again!"

"I wish I could say the same," Susan said with a sigh, sitting up straight with a grim expression. Her tone of voice was unusually stern and cold. With a start Frisk realized they were not in the room with Susan anymore but with Ms. Liao instead. That could not mean anything good. "But, I think we gotta talk. Not as a friend but as Frisk's teacher. Something's going on that we have to deal with, pronto."

Toriel took a moment to process that. "You are Frisk's teacher? Oh. What a pleasant coincidence. But did Frisk do something wrong?"

Ms. Liao replied, "Not 'wrong', I don't wanna use that word, but we have to have a sit down and hash it all out. You too, Frisk. I'm not the bad guy and you are not in trouble, I repeat you are _not_ in trouble, but you should be here if we're going to talk about you. And you as well, Mr. Pembrooke." Silas stiffened, clearly unused to being referred to that way, least of all by Ms. Liao. "There's enough space at the table for all of us, and as Frisk's guardian you need to be aware of what goes on in their life."

So this was it. This was when they would figure out Frisk was stupid. No matter what Ms. Liao said, they knew the truth. They were definitely in trouble. They pulled out a chair and shuffled into it with a deep sigh, staring down at the table. Toriel and Silas took seats of their own, both clearly concerned but oblivious. Marty, Asgore, and Papyrus, sensing their presence would be unhelpful, went upstairs to give them some privacy.

Ms. Liao explained, "Look, I know a struggling child when I see one. I don't know if this is a recent development or what. I don't think it's abuse, necessarily, but something is getting in the way of Frisk's schoolwork." At the word 'abuse' Silas made a low rumble in his throat, doubtlessly thinking about the burn marks on Frisk's old shirt. Ms. Liao continued, "I think, they are still dealing with trauma. They've spent a lot of time in foster care, and though things are settling down now the past week has been pretty rough. Not to mention whatever happened in the underground! I think it would be good for them to see a therapist. Not because I think they're crazy, but a lot of the kids their age can't relate to their experiences. It would help if there was someone they could talk to with no pressure and no interest outside of listening to them." She paused. "Also, I think they may be suffering from low self-esteem. If they've been criticized for their performance in school a lot, children start to internalize that criticism and it becomes a part of them. Instead of thinking about identifying problems and working towards solutions, they think of themselves as inherently bad. Do you have those thoughts a lot, Frisk? That you'll never be good enough, or that there's something 'wrong' with you?" She looked at Frisk expectantly, and they realized they would have to give her a response.

Frisk considered what answer she wanted to hear. They picked up that Ms. Liao wanted to send them to a therapist. They were unsure what a therapist was but they knew were expensive, one of their guardians had complained about the cost of them once. They did not know how much money Silas had, probably not very much if he was trying to stuff three humans and two Boss Monsters in a condo meant for one, maybe two with Frisk's new bedroom. Toriel surely had money from all the gold, but that was money meant for the monsters. They could not take away from that to pay for a human's things. So the solution was clear: if it would cost a lot of money they did not have to fix Frisk's problems, then Frisk must not have any problems. Frisk shook their head, earning them an incredulous scoff from Chara but they could buzz off.

Unfortunately they had, despite their best efforts, not answered correctly. They could tell Ms. Liao did not believe them from her pursed lips. "Hm, okay. I understand where you're coming from, Frisk, but I don't think it's your fault. You're attentive, you're involved, and when I call on you the answer comes out of you right away. And you're usually right, if it's something we've talked about in class. Like… okay. Frisk, when did Christopher Columbus discover America?"

Frisk swallowed. Okay, think a minute, they knew this one, how did that rhyme go? 'Columbus sailed the ocean blue, in…' "Four-teen hunnerd niney-two."

"That's correct!" Ms. Liao said, and she sounded happy. Maybe things were looking up. But then she turned to Silas and Toriel. "No hesitation, no confusion. They know that. They absolutely know it, and I know we haven't gone over it in class in the last couple days. Now, look at this." She pulled a sheet out of the folder, the one she had conspicuously not pulled out before confronting Silas and Toriel. "This was the worksheet the substitute handed out on Monday." Frisk could see the paper liberally marked with red ink. They could not see the final grade but Silas and Toriel winced so they guessed it was bad. "Take a look at the first question. It's the exact same question I just asked Frisk. But you see?"

Toriel and Silas both furrowed their brows. They looked up at Ms. Liao, uncomprehending, and Silas said what they both were thinking. "… They got it wrong."

Frisk felt their throat seize up. This was even worse than they thought! Did she think they were cheating? No. No no no, it was-

Ms. Liao nodded. "Yes. A thought entered my head just this morning, but I wasn't sure of it until just now." She turned in her seat and leaned down so her face was close to Frisk's. "I'm not trying to humiliate you or make you feel bad, Frisk. I don't want to make fun of you. I want to understand what's going on and what you're dealing with, what you're been brave enough to deal with all on your own so far, and I think I know what it is now. I want to help you, Frisk." She smiled. "Do you want to tell me what's troubling you? Would it make you feel better to say it yourself?"

They were not surprised Chara had figured it out, Chara was smart and attentive and really empathetic even if they tried to hide it. But teachers were not supposed to know. They were supposed to be too busy with other kids to notice Frisk, they were supposed to be too overwhelmed to give them individual attention, they were not supposed to care enough to put the pieces together. Because if they knew they would tell their guardians, and that would be the last straw, they'd be too much trouble, they'd be too difficult, and they'd be sent away, away, back to the group home, back to limbo, and this time and for forever afterward they'd have a brand on them marking them as defective. Everyone would know how stupid they were and no one would ever give them a second glance. But now it was here. Now it was the end.

Chara leaned in close, pointing across the table with their chin. "Do you want to tell them?"

Frisk took one deep breath, then another, over and over. It was scary, so scary! Chara did not appreciate how scary this was! Toriel was so looking forward to teaching Frisk, how would she react if she knew Frisk could not do a simple task any of their peers could do easily? Silas was smart, super duper smart, could he really care about a child who was so stupid? Susan was trying to help now, but would she abandon them once she knew how hopeless her task was? Frisk wanted to tell them. They wanted to trust them. They really did. But even thinking about it made their throat hurt and their stomach twist.

Chara noticed their distress. "You don't have to say anything, just tap your finger once for yes and twice for no. Do you want me to help you?"

Frisk tapped one finger on their thigh, not knowing or caring what Chara could possibly do. They would take anything. Help. They needed help.

"Okay. I, need you to listen, and to not freak out, okay? I think… I can control your body." They held out their hands defensively as alarm bells rang off in Frisk's head. "I found out by accident, and only practiced when you were asleep! Uh, sorry, I just realized how creepy that sounds. Anyway, my control is really bad but if I just have to say something I think I can do it. Is that okay?" Later on Frisk would unpack what Chara was saying and think through the ramifications, but for now all they could think of was that Chara was asking to help. They tapped their finger once more. "Alright, I'm going to give it a try."

From the corner of their eye they saw Chara try to mimic Frisk's sitting posture: legs together, hands in their lap, shoulders hunched in. They took a few calming breaths, opened their mouth, and proclaimed, "I can't read." Nothing else. Frisk's lips did not move to match Chara's. No sound escaped their throat. Chara tried again, "I can't read!" Still nothing. Chara bit their lower lip. "I-I'm sorry, I've never tried to do this while you were awake, I don't know why it isn't working! Hold on, maybe if I…" Frisk felt the distinctly uncomfortable sensation of their thumb flexing in and out experimentally without them telling it to do so. They squeezed their hand into a fist and barely suppressed the urge to shout in alarm. "Sorry, sorry," Chara said, a twinge of panic in their voice. "That was me, sorry. Okay, now that you're keeping your hand closed I can't move it. So… I think I can only move your body if you're not already moving it. It makes sense, it's yours so your will overrides mine. You have to not move while not consciously trying to hold yourself still. So if you're clenching your teeth I can't speak for you. Frisk! You have to calm down!"

They needed Chara to tell them. But Chara could not make Frisk do anything Frisk did not want to. As long as their throat was so tightly clenched and their lips pursed together so hard Chara was helpless. They needed to relax. They needed to calm down. But it was no use. They shook their head in defeat. Chara couldn't help.

Ms. Liao's face hovered close to theirs. She was smiling like a saint, small and warm and calming. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. If it's easier for you I can say what I think, and you can tell me if I'm right. Would that be better?"

It was hard to breathe. They swallowed air in quick gasps and exhaled in shaky whines that threatened to turn into sobs at any moment. No, it wouldn't work that way. If Ms. Liao said it Frisk would just deny it. They would deny and deny, lying through their teeth, even when the truth was so obvious. Frisk shook their head fiercely, no, no.

Ms. Liao: "Then, do you want to tell us what the matter is?"

Frisk nodded. They had to do it. _They_ had to be the one to do it. Them, not Ms. Liao or Chara or anyone else. So they mustered up every scrap of courage and hope they had. In a way it was the hardest thing they had ever done, harder than facing down a two-story tall murderous flower, harder than convincing an unfortunate child they were worthy of love, way harder than trekking through an underground filled with monsters. But even though it terrified them, even though a part of them thought they were giving up any possibility of a bright future, they still squeezed through a tight throat: "I can't read."

Susan nodded. "Thank you for trusting me."

Silas got up out of his chair and took a few steps away from the table, looking at the fridge. He shook his head and swallowed. "Nothing like that was in the paperwork. They didn't know. Child Services didn't know. You've been Frisk's teacher for a week and you figured out something was wrong. They've been in foster care for eight years and nobody ever noticed before you. Eight years!" he seethed, his voice raising a few octaves. "They have a child in their care for eight years, and not once did they think there was a reason they did bad in school? They didn't test them even once, for anything? They just blame the kid and go about their day? How do you fail to teach a kid how to read and not even notice? What the hell were these people doing?!"

"Sai," Susan said, not Ms. Liao anymore. "You're scaring them." And he was; Frisk's hands hurt from staying in a white-knuckle grip on themselves for so long. They were so distraught they could not understand the words he was saying but his tone came through clearly. As far as they could tell he was having the worst reaction, all their fears were coming true. They pulled their shoulders inward and stared into their knees. Their vision became occluded with tears.

And then Toriel was there. "Oh, my child, my poor child, it's okay." Toriel put a hand on their shoulder and that was all the signal they needed; they turned in their chair and buried their face in Toriel's chest. They grabbed two fistfuls of her robe and sobbed, still unsure whether the world was ending or just beginning. "It's alright," Toriel whispered assurances into the top of Frisk's head. "It is not your fault, I do not blame you. I am not angry with you for not telling me earlier. Cry if you must, but this changes nothing." She gave a single reproachful glare to Silas but Frisk had her attention.

Silas ran a hand through his hair and collected himself. "Sorry Frisk," he said, his voice returning to its normal tone. "I am… not angry at you, I swear. If anything, I am angry _for_ you. I'm angry at this… system. You were completely dependent on them, you had no one else to help you, and they let you down. I just… it's unfair. It's just not fair." He swallowed when he realized Frisk was no longer listening to him, that the damage had been done. "H-Hey. I'm sorry Frisk. Really, I'm… we're going to be okay. Nothing's going to happen to you, all right? We're going to… I don't know, but we'll figure it out. All of us." He looked to Ms. Liao for assurance.

"I don't think it's too late," Ms. Liao said hopefully. "Frisk has a tough road to climb, but it's not impossible. If nobody ever taught them we can do some tutoring to catch them up. If it's a learning disability we can make accommodations for them so they can do the classwork along with the other kids, I'll be happy to help with that too. Whether it's glasses or eye surgery or a study system, we'll all have to do what we can. Okay Frisk?"

Frisk felt a small hand squeezing theirs, a cold but small hand with slender fingers that could only belong to one person. "Knowing you have friends willing to help you… it fills you with determination." Frisk sniffled and rubbed their face into Toriel's robe as a furred hand patted their head. They squeezed the cold hand back, as though hearing it from Chara made it real. It was alright. Everything would be alright.

* * *

It took some doing, what with getting a recording, sending it to the Underground, and convincing Mettaton to play something that was not him across the television network, but the monsters of the Underground were able to see the King's speech a mere four days after it was broadcast. Oh they had heard about it for sure; the former Royal Guard were conscripted back into service to run security for the entrance. Within a few hours of the speech a procession of reporters made their way to the cave, eager to personally investigate the world lying just under their feet. At first, tension reigned in the capital as the people of New Home feared an invasion by the humans, but as the hours passed and the reporters respected the boundaries of the kingdom they accepted that they were safe.

Asgore's speech had a generally positive effect on the populace; it gave them hope that living on the surface without starting another war was possible. However, not everyone felt this way.

A single monster, living alone in their small apartment a short walk from downtown New Home, watched the speech with an icy feeling of dread in their stomach. They saw the opening wide shot, featuring Asgore as well as the six human children, and immediately their teeth clenched. They stood up from their chair when their king promised the monsters wished to live in peace, striding across the room to stand directly in front of the TV. They grabbed their tiny CRT television in both hands and stared into the screen from inches away, disbelief quickly giving way to fury as they listened to Asgore placate and grovel. "No… NO!" They gripped the television strongly enough to crack the casing. Their entire body shook with rage. One of them… one of those children committed the massacre seven years ago. They had killed dozens of monsters and paid for that crime with their life. Except they had not! They were alive, while their victims remained dust. And instead of righting this injustice, Asgore was appearing with them, smiling for the camera, ingratiating himself with the humans who had sealed them away so long ago. He coddled up to their oppressors and ignored the crimes that had been committed against monsterkind for the sake of a false peace.

It was an unspeakable, unthinkable betrayal.

"You promised us victory!" they screamed. "You promised us vengeance! Was it all a lie? Would you forget what they did to us so easily?" They lifted the television off its stand, tearing the power cord out of the wall and plunging the room into darkness. "Is this how you keep Prince Asriel's memory?! _By siding with his killers?!_ " They hurled the television against the wall, smashing the screen into hundreds of glass shards. All was quiet save for the heavy breathing of the room's occupant. They stared at where the television fell, their fists clenching as they found their resolve.

"… So be it. Then you will share their fate, Asgore Dreemurr."

* * *

AN: This is the end of Arc 1: "First Contact". Next chapter will mark the beginning of Arc 2: "Families of Choice". There will be a timeskip of a few weeks along with a sort of... let's call it "experiment" to catch everyone up on what happened in the interim. See you all then!


	17. ARC 2: FAMILIES OF CHOICE

Warning: This chapter contains bullying, misgendering, closet racism, and children being awful.

* * *

 _(Partial transcript of "Papyrus AMA II" livestream dated 10/10/4X)_

MARTIN: What's goin' on people, this is Marty for Mad Martian Media, streaming live over your intertubes. And man oh man, we have a very special guest in the studio today, one might even call him… the greatest guest. Please welcome back to the stream, The Great! Papyrus!

(Silence. Papyrus' mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out.)

M: Uh, you should be able to speak normally, I dropped your gain way down so it's not going to blow anyone's speakers or headphones or eardrums this time.

PAPYRUS: Is that so? Amazing! In that case… greetings, humans of the internet! I am your friend-shaped skeleton, the Great Papyrus! Here to answer your questions and regale you with wisdom!

M: Before we get into it, tell us a little bit about what you've been up to, Paps.

P: Certainly! Yesterday I was in the capital again to meet with our state congresspeople! I do believe they're starting to warm up to me.

M: You sure you aren't sugar coating things for us? The first time you went down they were spooked. People are still sharing the compilation video, you know. It's gone super viral.

(The editor has spliced in a clip from the video mentioned. It is a supercut of Papyrus, in his former battle body/current ambassador attire, standing on the sidewalk in front of the capitol building and attempting to shake hands with people as they report for the legislative session. First is a woman in a white two-piece suit who shrieks and throws her briefcase in the air; second is a portly gentleman who winces and backpedals until he trips over the curb of the sidewalk and falls sprawling; third is a man who attempts to scurry past Papyrus while unwilling to turn his back on him; and fourth is a thin man who shouts many words, half of them inarticulate and the other half censored while flailing in what might have passed for self-defense for a toddler. A jaunty tune has been overlaid on these scenes:

 _Spooky scary skeletons  
_ _Send shivers down your spine  
_ _Shrieking skulls will shock your soul  
_ _Seal your doom tonight  
_ _Spooky scary skeletons  
_ _Speak with such a screech  
_ _You'll shake and shudder in surprise  
_ _When you hear these zombies shriek_

The video feed returns to Marty and Papyrus, the former smirking and the latter with the brow on his skull furrowed.)

P: … Oh, how I detest that meme. But yes, I shook hands with a number of the representatives yesterday and some of them even spoke with me! I was not able to get any of them to commit to drafting or sponsoring a monster bill of rights, but I am optimistic that I am winning hearts and minds every week!

M: Well I'm rooting for you guys, and I'm sure everyone watching this stream are as well. If you were here for the first session you know the drill. If you weren't, listen up 'cause we got a system in place. We will be taking questions from chat, but since everyone wants to ask there's no way we'll get to everyone. We decided the only fair system was a, I guess you could call it a lottery. Each person gets one question, we pull 'em at random, and we'll see what we get! If we don't get to your question, ooh, I'm sorry, but there's only so much time in the day.

P: Indeed! I would be happy to be here all night, but my human friend Marty needs sleep, so when he gets tired that will have to be all for the day.

M: And I am legally required to tell you donating does not, I repeat does not, increase your chances of getting your question read. But it is very much appreciated! It keeps the lights on here at Mad Martian Media, lets us upgrade and replace our equipment, and for today only 50% of the proceeds will go to our guest! The last time we had Papyrus on my show ended up paying my rent for the next year, so, you know, it's the least I could do. So how about our first question, from the doodly-bob! 'Papyrus, in the last AMA you talked about magic and spells as though they were different things. Please teach us poor muggles about magic.' Ah, we have a veteran here who was with us for that previous show last month.

P: And they have a very good question! It's easy for a monster to understand, but how to have it make sense to a human…? Ah, I have an idea. So, let's say you have a dog, and you want him to do some tricks. This dog is very active and very, very intelligent. So if you tell the dog to walk over to you or stand on its hind legs or do a backflip, it does it right away. It's very easy! But let's say you want it to do something complicated, like a kickflip off the wall into a triple twist while blowing a kiss. The dog will say, "Hey, that's really complicated! I can't do that just because you told me to, I think I'm going to want to practice first."

M: I was following you okay for a moment, but dogs don't talk.

P: What are you talking about, of course dogs can talk! Anyway, you take some time and practice with the dog and after a while it picks it up and gets the trick! But if you want it to do a similar move, like a kickflip-triple _reverse_ twist-blow kiss, you have to start all over again and teach the dog the trick from scratch. And if you want the dog to not blow a kiss for whatever reason, too bad! That's the way it learned it, so that's the way it does it! So, in that analogy, using magic is like the simple tricks; you can do simple things with magic when you want to and it doesn't take much. But bigger and more complicated tricks, for those you need a dedicated training regimen and time to perfect it, and once you do you can't mess around with it to make it do other things. That's a spell! Anytime you want to have effects that only happen in certain conditions, or combine two types of magic, or do anything useful with materialization, it has to be a spell.

M: Material…? I'm sorry, what kind of magic is that?

P: You take magic, and you give it a physical form of your choosing! It used to be called crystallization magic, and is also sometimes called cyan magic. It can be added to bullets easily enough, but if you want to make anything more complicated than a simple geometric shape you must learn the shape as its own spell! But wait! I'm supposed to be answering listener questions, not yours, Marty!

M: Right you are. Alright, let's take a different one…

* * *

Dyslexia.

The moment Frisk heard the word they hated it. They maybe should have been comforted because their difficulties were not the result of them not trying hard enough. Instead it felt like a label, something that would get plastered onto their name so everyone would know what their problem was. What was even worse was that it was a label for other people to use, not them. Frisk couldn't even spell the word, let alone pronounce it. What kind of cruelty was it to give such a hard word to people who were not good with words to begin with? They were also keeping an eye on them because it was common for people with dyslexia to have ADD, dysgraphia, or other forms of learning disabilities.

It was not all bad, though. They got a set of strips that had all the letters and numbers on them, all colored differently so they could see how to write all of them correctly. Ms. Liao introduced audio books for class reading time, opening the option up for the whole class so Frisk would not get singled out for being the only one 'ear reading'. She also provided Frisk with lesson notes on the sly, so they could study them later when they had more time. Speaking of time, that was a downside; even if they got reduced homework as an accommodation, it took them forever to finish anything and they needed someone to help them practice the content instead of struggling to read the instructions. That meant one of the adults in the household would need to be available to go over the work with Frisk. Toriel did not even pretend this would be a burden; she was out of practice dealing with large groups of people, and still some part of her did not wish to return to a leadership role. She was clearly aching for an excuse to leave politics to the boys, and an excuse which let her spend more time with Frisk was her dream come true. If she could not homeschool Frisk this was clearly the next best thing. Toriel also took this opportunity to study for herself; while her English and Math were good, she knew less than Frisk about History or Social Studies and was in need of an education herself. How better to get them than with material geared toward beginners! None of it ended up being that expensive, either; Silas had called up Ms. Ashland and calmly eviscerated her for failing to notice Frisk was illiterate. The government smoothed things over by paying for Frisk's new specialists and items.

Other than that, their school life had not improved much. They were not getting picked on, necessarily, it was more that nobody really cared about them. Nobody offered to let them join in their games, nobody interacted with them outside the most perfunctory "good morning"s and "see you later"s. And during recess they were alone, stuck watching while the other kids formed into their little groups and cliques.

"Hey new kid," someone called out to them. Yeah, even after almost a month they were still "new kid". That was the way it went. Frisk turned to meet with the eyes of three boys. The smallest one with beady eyes asked, "How come your eyes are always closed? You blind or sumthin'?"

Frisk shook their head. "I dunno how, but I can see fine."

"Really?" The largest boy flipped them the bird and cracked a mean-spirited grin. "So how many fingers am I holding up?" The other boys burst into laughter. Frisk balled their hands into fists but did not let their anger show on their face. Maybe if they did not get a reaction they would not resort to bullying them in earnest? No such luck; the three boys walked up to Frisk, their smiles fading. "What's that look for? It's a joke. You're supposed to laugh."

Frisk shrugged. "Wasn't funny."

"And who asked you?" the big kid poked, pushing hard enough against Frisk's shoulder to knock them off balance and causing them to stumble a few steps.

He had touched them. They had been pushed. They could claim the other boys started it. Adrenaline was already flooding their bloodstream and their mind worked in overdrive. Three of them, but the two on the sides were toadies. They were there as moral support and to hang off the bigger boy's sides like lamprey. They were both pukes in a fight, they could tell from their posture and the twinkling of fear in their eyes hiding behind their bravado. If things got violent they would not even help out. The big kid was the only real threat.

No, no! They were not going to think like that! They skidded to a stop before they backed into the wall, then pursed their lips into a line. The smaller kids had caught the flash of anger, though, and the fear lurking beneath their cruel exterior came out. "Kyle," one of them called the bigger kid, but Kyle ignored his buddy's distress.

"Whassa matter?" Kyle taunted. "You gettin' mad? Wanna take a swing at me?" He smiled widely. "Come and get it, fartnuts. I won't even get in trouble for hitting a girl, 'cause you ain't a girl are you? You're some kinda freak. Oh, you like that? Then that's gonna be your name, Freak Holder! The little mutant who-"

In a flash of red Frisk saw exactly what to do. Step on Kyle's foot and punch him in the stomach, he would flinch and try to back away but be unable to. He would fall over awkwardly, maybe even overextend his ankle if Frisk got lucky. Kick him in the balls before he recovers, then in the side to make him roll over onto his stomach. Then get on top of his back, grab him by the hair, and slam his face into the asphalt until he cried uncle. Easy peasy. They stepped forward and-

Someone grabbed hold of their shoulder. They spun around in a rage and came face to face with a red-eyed child staring at them with deep concern. "Stopping you," Chara said. "As requested."

Chara's grip was not particularly tight; it would be easy to yank it free. And if Chara could grab Frisk, Frisk could punch them just as easily. Their stomach twisted at the thought and the red haze pulled back. No, Chara was right. They had asked this of them. Frisk noticed for the first time they were surrounded by other kids now, most of them looked to be in Frisk's grade or younger. They would not look Frisk in the eye but their faces held a strange mixture of dread and anticipation. They wanted there to be a fight, but none of them were willing to join in on it. They were forming a ring around them, and soon Frisk knew they would start that most hallowed of schoolyard chants: "Fight _fight_ fight _fight_!" If Frisk backed down now everyone would know they were a wimp; it would be as good as declaring themselves open season. They could not fight, and they could not run. So what were they supposed to do? In the Underground it had been so easy, the right thing to do had always seemed so obvious and they acted almost without thinking. They pacified so many monsters without ever having to raise a fist. They had hoped whatever insight they had gained by falling down would also work on the surface, but faced with a human kid now they felt as lost and confused as they ever were before. Hug, flirt, console, pray, sing… all of them seemed like wrong answers. Why? Why was it so much harder to be a good kid now?

"No use looking around," Kyle sneered. "Miss Lee- _cow_ isn't gonna save you this time. You got no friends, and there isn't anyone that's gonna stick their neck out for the new kid!"

"I will!"

The ring of students parted to let an older boy through, fourth grade at least. He had short spiked hair and a bandana wrapped around his forehead. He nodded once to Frisk as he got in between them and Kyle. He introduced himself, "Skye, I'm a buddy of your buddy, kinda."

Frisk turned their head for confirmation from Chara. "Skye Harris. Attack: arbitrarily high. Defense: Unknown. The Bravery Soul. He knows me better than I know him." Oh, one of the other kids who fell into Mt. Ebott.

Kyle stepped back, much less confident of his chances now. "Gotta get a fourth-grader to fight your battles for you, huh sissy?"

Skye waved a finger and clicked his tongue. "Nah, I'm more of the 'help me help you' kind of guy. And if half the stories about this one are true they don't need me to fight anything for them. But if you wanna find that out for yourself…" He pointed outside the school yard, toward a group of long warehouses rusted from disuse. "Nobody goes there anymore, and there's a hole in the fence on the south side. I say you two meet up there after school. It's off school grounds, away from the principal's eyes, so anything that happens there won't get anyone in trouble. Just you and Frisk. You can beat the hell out of each other all you like, get it out of your system. Sound good?"

Sounded good to Frisk. They stepped forward, sizing Kyle up. "Yeah. I'll show him how a fight ends when teach isn't there to stop it." A chorus of "ooo- _ooooo_ " erupted from the onlookers, letting Frisk know they had struck gold.

Kyle sneered, though his cheeks had gone suddenly paler. "Pff. I'm gonna fuck you up, Holder." He and his posse took one last glare at Skye before turning on their heels and walking away, the crowd of students already beginning to disperse. Even Skye bounded away before he got caught "picking on the little kids" and earned a scolding.

"My understanding is that I was supposed to stop your bad decisions, not delay them," Chara grumbled.

"It's fine," Frisk said. "I wanted you to keep me out of trouble with the teachers. If I come home with a few bruises it'll be fine."

"It won't be fine! I share any pain you feel, remember? If you get manhandled I'll get hurt too!"

"So I won't get hurt. I can take care of Kyle any day and twice on Sunday."

"Wha… what does that even mean?"

Frisk smirked. "It means I win fights."

* * *

M: All right, let's take another question. Randomizer, go! Ah, here's another good one, from a local apparently. "Hey, what's up with all the activity at the Smokey Forest Campgrounds? First it closes suddenly, then a whole bunch of trees get torn down and now there's construction crews down there all week!"

P: Oh, that! That would be the site for transitional housing especially for monsters! The owner has generously donated the space to us and we're getting ready to put up some apartment complexes! That will let us fit the greatest number of people in the smallest amount of space. Now, there are a few houses going up in the area, King Asgore and myself will be getting places of our own and the brilliant Dr. Alphys is going to be transporting her lab up here sooner or later, but the hope is that there won't be too many permanent residences. We figure it will be easier for monsters to find their place in Weymouth and the surrounding area when they have a, er, base of operations.

M: Sounds cool! Do you guys got a name for the place yet?

P: … It's a work in progress.

* * *

"Monster Town."

"No."

"Newest Home."

"No."

"Surface Village?"

"Are you having fun with me, Asgore, or are you truly this bad at names?" Even over the phone Beatrice's tone was so sharp he felt physically wounded. "Well, let's put that aside for the moment. What else can you tell me about your housing situation?"

Asgore had bundled one ear into a roll and held it in place to drown out the sound of incessant hammers while he half-shouted into the phone, "We've set up some temporary shelters for Papyrus and I to sleep in; our houses won't be complete until at least the end of November. Construction on two of the apartment buildings is done, so we can start moving people in by the end of the month. I've also heard Alphys and her internet is providing apartment listings for monsters to move into directly, at least for those that have not updated their listings with a 'no monsters' clause."

Beatrice snorted. "And how many have done that?"

"Less than you'd think. Fascination is spreading faster than disgust, at least within Weymouth. We've even gotten some offers for people to host monsters in their homes. I am hopeful it will get people used to monsters and help monsters get used to the surface."

"You hope for too much," Beatrice sighed. "You are going with the flow too easily. People know monsters don't leave bodies when they die. It would be too easy for someone to get a monster into their home, kill them, dispose of the dust, and claim they vanished around town or never arrived. I understand you want to move quickly, but you need to think like a bad person more often or you'll never be able to predict them." Asgore acknowledged that she was probably right. "Speaking of which, I've been looking over your proposal for ID cards for monsters, for them to carry around so something would be left behind if they dust. It isn't a perfect solution, but perhaps the best we can roll out on short notice. I have nothing further to add at this time."

At first Asgore was nervous about allowing Beatrice into their most delicate discussions, but Silas insisted it had to be this way. Martin had said something like, "Silads'd rather have her inside the tent pissing out than outside the tent pissing in." Silas admonished him for using bad language where Frisk might hear but he did not contradict the central point. And it was correct; despite her acerbic wit she was an invaluable asset. Not just her funds either; she had taken a keen interest in Asgore. She had deduced, correctly, that Asgore's reign had only been as successful as it was because he had never faced a major crisis or loss of confidence. He had grown complacent dealing with mere monster concerns, but his laissez-faire style would not suffice when dealing with potentially hostile humans. She spent a lot of time coaching him when to recognize he was being dealt with in bad faith, how to recognize priority issues and stand firm on them while offering token concessions, and how to read what a negotiator says and what he does not say. He was too agreeable, she would say, and was too willing to sacrifice his priorities in order to maintain camaraderie. Under her tutelage he was learning a lot about how humans conduct business and getting a lot of work done.

Truthfully, he had thrown himself into this work at least partially to distract him. It was hard for him to see Toriel, in his life and close enough to touch but as unattainable as she ever was. The other day she had asked him to rescind the law that Boss Monsters could only have children with other Boss Monsters and he felt his soul break. She had assured him she did not have anyone in mind and was not ready to have another child even if she did, but the damage was done. She had moved on. And why wouldn't she? She had shattered their marriage cord the day she left, and a thousand years of tradition told him all that it meant. But he had never let go. A part of him still loved her, would never stop loving her. She had made him very happy, and he made her happy. Happy enough to have a child with her and bring his life to a close. Would he ever find someone that made him feel that way again? He was doubtful, very doubtful. So he moved out of Silas' condo, put up tents on the site, and took to overseeing trees chopped down and uprooted and space cleared out and houses being put up. He even offered his own prodigious strength to the building efforts, earning his hearty back slaps and smiling faces from the other workers. He liked feeling useful. He liked being needed.

"I think I understand what I am doing wrong," he said into the phone breaking into a grin. "How about… Surface Neighborhood?"

A disgusted sigh from the other end of the phone told him he still had a long way to go.

* * *

M: Hey, Papyrus, it's your favorite topic.

P: You mean…?

M: "Pappy, what's a soul made of? Please tell us everything you know! Take pity on us!"

P: Again? It seems every time we hold a press conference or take questions someone is asking about souls. Someone could probably fill a whole TED talk about souls, but I am but a novice in this area. I would have studied more if I knew we'd get this many questions about them, I am continually surprised by all the interest.

M: I'm not. Souls have been an intense topic of conversation for literal centuries. How they work, what they includes, what happens to them when you die. Heck, a couple hundred years ago people started being skeptical about whether a soul even existed.

P: Wha… how? Did they get that idea?

M: That's how little we know about them! We had no way of detecting a soul or seeing it or anything! And, well, everything that makes us who we are comes from the brain. Our likes, our dislikes, our history, our personality, all of that is based in the brain. So if the brain is doing everything the soul is "supposed" to do, why would we assume a soul exists? That's been the theory, anyway, up until you guys came out of the ground and were like, "By the way, souls exist and we can prove it". So…?

P: Alright, I can see you're struggling. Hmmmmmm. Very well, though I am not an expert on the subject I will endeavor to satisfy you, noble asker! For monsters our soul _is_ who we are. Monsters don't have brains, in fact a lot of them don't have heads! So it's possible a soul has a different function in humans than it does in monsters. What we _do_ know is that human souls still reflect who their owner is; very kind people have green souls whether they are human or monster.

M: I thought monster souls were-

P: They appear as white, yes, except to the monster who has it in their field. Only to them will it show its true color. We still aren't sure why this is, perhaps it has something to do with the relative strength of our souls. We believe monster souls are made of love, hope, and compassion, but we don't know how human souls differ. There will need to be collaboration and many years of study between our races to get all the answers. I for one look forward to it!

M: I think we all do, Papyrus!

* * *

After school Frisk snuck away from the teachers and across the street, finding the hole in the chain-link fence just as Skye said. Through the gaps they saw Skye had already arrived. They tossed their backpack in first and wriggled in afterward. Skye waved them over, "Yo, you made it!" Frisk nodded in response. "I'm not planning on helping you out, you know. I'm just here in case that other kid gets the dumb idea to bring buddies. He seems like the type." Frisk only shrugged. If the rest of Kyle's friends were the same caliber as the hangers-on he had at recess Frisk would have had no trouble with them. Skye finished, "All that's left is to wait for 'im."

Frisk paced in a little circle, stretching out their muscles in anticipation for battle. Skye sat on a discarded metal drum, kicking their feet into the air while scanning left and right. After a while Frisk leaned against the outside wall of the warehouse. After a little longer they slid down and sat, making little drawings in the dirt. Chara said into the air, "You wait a while. Doesn't seem like anyone's coming… continue waiting?"

Skye grumbled, "You think he's being late on purpose, to try and freak you out?"

Frisk shook their head. "No. He's not that smart."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Skye replied. "He was at least clever enough to put together that trap for you this afternoon." Frisk raised an eyebrow, prompting an explanation. "Okay, so, here's how the plan goes. The bully singles out his victim and goads them into throwing the first punch. It doesn't matter that he was the one talking trash, all the adults care about is who lost their temper first. 'Why didn't you walk away? Why can't you control yourself?', and so on, because adults forget about how for a kid it isn't that easy. Anyway, the victim gets scolded and now if there's any further fighting the adults are more likely to take the bully's side. After all, as far as the adults know isn't it the victim who started it last time? So he'd have free reign to shove you around all he wants and if you fight back you're the one who gets punished." He patted Frisk on the shoulder. "I've been on both sides of that power play, I wasn't gonna let him do it you. I figured you can take him with no authority holding you back. If it's just the two of you fighting. You don't mind me putting you on the spot back there, do you?"

Frisk shook their head. "It means I miss my bus ride home, but I can get someone to pick me up. I'll just say I stayed after school to help someone." They smiled. "So you were friends with Chara too?"

Skye winced. "Not really, that was a little bit of a fib. I wanted to be, but… I fought a lot of monsters and hurt some of them pretty bad. Never to death, but Chara didn't like it either way. I just… had something to prove, I guess."

Frisk carefully tiptoed up to something they had wondered about. "Did you ever… kill any by accident? And have to go back?"

The boy's smile faded. His eyes shone with recognition. "Less than you'd think. But it wasn't zero. Hey, you take care of 'em, okay? I can't see them anymore, so I have to trust you." Frisk gave them a thumbs-up. "Cool. But uh… I think your duel partner skipped out on you." He checked his phone. "Yeah, school let out almost an hour ago."

"You wait a while longer," Chara narrated, pointedly facing away from both of them. "It is quarter to four and no one has shown up. Continue waiting?"

All that drama and Kyle couldn't even show up for his ass whooping. Frisk sighed and drew out their cell. "Phone, call Silas." They hoped he would not be too angry they missed their bus…

* * *

M: Hey Papyrus, how about you pick one? Just click the button there and you'll get a question at random.

P: At last, I am in charge of my own destiny! Hm, there's no flashing lights or colored squares like when Mettaton selects something at random. Missed opportunity! Let's see, after correcting for bad spelling and grammar it reads, 'How can you claim those microwavable meals you're planning to sell don't need refrigeration? What did you do to the food to make that happen?' Ooh, this is an easy one!

M: C'mon, people, this has been in the news all week, they've explained dozens of times to every outlet-

P: Now now, they have rejected receiving their enlightenment second-hand and have gone straight to the source! And, this would have been the motto on our food had it not been unilaterally and unfairly rejected, "Papyrus Delivers!" Monster food does not spoil! It is naturally immune to bacteria, and the process of converting it into monster food destroys any bacteria already in it! This does mean that some foods cannot currently be offered; kimchi, live-culture buttermilk or yogurt, miso, and some others.

M: So, wait, do you even have beer? I mean, I've had normal beer that's been monsterized, and listeners I strongly _strongly_ advise you to pass on it if you're ever offered any, but if nothing you make ferments does that mean there's no such thing as monster alcohol?

P: Mmmmmm, that's complicated. The long answer is "no" with a "but" around paragraph three. The short answer is technically yes, but there's no actual alcohol in it and we've been advised bringing it across state lines could get us arrested.

M: Sounds… pretty intimidating.

P: As for what we do to the food, we infuse it with magic! This is most often done during the cooking process so there's a number of foods we can make. Sadly, my artisinal spaghetti will not be one of the available flavors at launch. I know! I know! The disappointment is palpable! The recipe is still woefully incomplete. But we still have, let me get my ad copy out… ah! 'We plan to offer lots of mouth-watering options like Four-Cheese Chicago Pizza, Salisbury Steak with Rice Medley, and Chicken Cordon Bleu!'

M: So wait, I thought you just said you can't make cheese…?

P: Once cheese has been made using normal human methods it's easy to transform it into bona-fide monster food! But if live cultures are critical to the taste…

M: Ah, I see what you're saying. So when are these going to be available in the grocery store?

P: If you live in New England, sooner than you think!

* * *

He should have seen it coming. After eating Toriel's cooking he'd had advance notice on it. But he had not considered what would happen if the monsters took their food and industrialized it. It was clear golden flower tea could not compete with entire meals which gave the same energy-boosting effects for a fraction of the price. There was still a niche for golden flower tea, of course, as a status symbol for the rich if nothing else. But there would no longer be a market for desperate college kids looking for an instant hit of energy for cram sessions when they could have a can of monster coffee, it would not be a staple in emergency rooms when monster Jello could restore vital fluids just as well, and the doomsday preppers would not buy golden flower tea by the barrel when monster MREs also shared the curious property of never going bad and with a lot more variety for their palettes. The sad fact was that current production vastly outstripped the new depreciated expected demand, and so there would be significant cutbacks in human resources. So of course experienced but expensive workers like Chad were the first to get the pink slip. He emptied out his locker, which had actually not accumulated much besides dust bunnies in the past seven years. Most of the time he did not remember he even had a locker; he showed up in his work clothes and in the winter months he hung up his coat near his workstation. It was sobering to see so much time and effort amount to so little. He walked out to his car with scuffling footsteps and his keys dangling from one finger.

"You look like the world just fell in on you, buddy." Chad looked up to see a rotund gentleman in slacks, a polo shirt, and a windbreaker jacket, cheeks flushed red from the cold winds. The man offered a handshake, which Chad took. "Name's Byron Rickford. I'm nobody special, just an average guy. Thought I'd come down and see how it all shook out. Can't say I'm surprised they're letting people go already. Time to wind down, looks like."

Chad pulled back his hand skeptically. "What do you mean by that?"

"After that announcement the writing's on the wall, ain't it? If people can get the same effect of golden flower tea from steak, or pizza, or chocolate donuts, where's that leave you guys? You can't compete with choices like that! Pretty surprising, eh? These monsters come in and _wham!_ The industry that put Weymouth on the map is history. Last month nobody even knew they existed, and already they're putting hundreds of hard-working men and women out of a job. It's terrible! Terrible what these things are doing!"

Chad knew he had to speak up. "Look, I don't appreciate them putting me out of work, but they are still people. They aren't things." He did not trust monsters, true, but it was not because of any intrinsic quality they had. Even if they had been humans with the same story his distrust would have been the same.

Byron smiled nervously, as though realizing he had overstated his case. "Hey, I'm not some kind of… specie-ist, or whatever. I got nothing against them, my mouth just ran away from me a bit. I'm no politician, I misspeak sometimes, only human and all that. But is it wrong to want to protect the livelihood of humans? I mean, we were here first! We made Weymouth great! Should we have to give up everything we've earned to monsters, when they just pop up and expect everything handed to them? Where's our share? When do us little people catch a break?" Byron handed Chad a business card with a logo resembling a human hand with its pointer finger extended upward. "I represent a group of concerned citizens, a sort of, er, political action committee. We are Humans First, and our only goal is, well, to make sure the needs and wants of humans are considered first! Surely there's nothing wrong with advocating for your own species, right? That's what monsters are doing. Tell you what, we need all the people we can get and you look like a good, strong, hard-working fella. You come down to my office on Friday, the address is right there, and I'll find a place for you. Get you a sign-on package, a monthly salary, and it would be helping the community. Sound good?"

A simple way to put it was, Chad like many people was afraid of change. Other people chafed when they were stuck in one place too long, or got anxious when they seemed to be treading water. Chad on the other hand liked his ruts; if he had a set path, a routine, a way of life he did not need to think about too hard, he was happy. And such a modest goal was not too much to ask, right? A lot of what Byron was saying resonated with him. His job at the golden tea factory was certainly not glamorous, but he was part of an industry that made Weymouth unique among all the other cities in all the world. Home of Golden Flower Tea. But no longer; now Weymouth would be known as "that city with the monsters". Everything he had known was being upended, and Byron was offering him a rock of stability. Not to mention a paycheck, right when he was in need of a new source of them. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, that sounds real good."

"Great!" Byron shook his hand, strong and firm. "I'll see you on Friday. If you think anyone else should hear our message, let 'em know about us! We gotta look out for each other, yeah? Hey, you there!" He turned to someone else trudging to his car and ran over to greet them. "You look a little lost, like you don't know where to go next…"

Chad watched him go, flipping the business card in his hand end over end. Well, it could not hurt to look into it. And he needed the money. He put the card in his pocket, already feeling a little better. There were paths open to him. He had options. It was probably time to put the factory behind him anyway. And Byron was right, someone had to make sure Humans were considered First.

* * *

M: Alright, one last question to close us out. "Papyrus, when are we going to get to see other monsters? I'm really hoping they're all as cool as you!"

P: No fair! You're supposed to take a question from the chat, not ask me one of your own!

M: I'm reading it right from the screen, big guy!

P: Nyeh heh heh! That is actually what we are going to find out! The Kingdom of Monsters has been without their king for nearly a month, and it is past time to correct that! We will be taking a short holiday underground, and we hope some of our friends who were unable to come up before have the option to do so now!

M: What about the second part of the question?

P: Monsters are of course friendly and welcoming! They will fit in without any trouble and be just as beloved as I am! I predict no problems whatsoever!

* * *

From the outside it was just another non-descript building in New Home, a two-story apartment complex wider than it was tall. Like most apartment buildings in the capital three monsters were packed into a studio, spaces meant for one family held two or three, and the rent crept higher month after month. Soon, though, it would be over. The king had promised negotiations with the humans were going well, and as soon as next month people would be able to get brand new apartments on the surface. It felt like a dream come true.

But in the basement, something else was happening. The gathering throng had been told to wear cloaks or masks to conceal their identity, for this was a meeting to air grievances against the king and kingdom itself. There were no advertisements, no posters, just word of mouth spread to those who were known to be skeptical about healing the divide between human and monster. Those who were unable to let go of their anger just because the king claimed the war was over before a single battle had been fought. Not everyone had an appropriately ominous cloak available at a moment's notice, so some had come with paisley bedsheets or oversized raincoats draped over them.

One figure, the only one in a black hooded cloak, raged, "That creature we now know as Rebecca killed forty of us, forty of our friends brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers! The humans refused to hold her accountable, we expected that. But for our own king to join them? For Asgore himself to offer mercy? Where was their mercy, when they cut us down in the war? Where was the forgiveness when those humans murdered Asriel? And does anyone think Rebecca was showing us kindness as they slaughtered us?" The agreements around the room turned from murmurs to stage whisper to full-throated shouting. The figure nodded. "Yes. For so long we have been able to control ourselves. There was no need for us to get lost in our rage, when our king had promised to make it right. But he has gone back on his duty, on his responsibility! And so it must fall to us, to do what he will not. All the king must do is stand aside and let us make our own justice. Prepare your courage, for if he will not then we must be ready to stand against even Asgore himself. Are you all with me?" A cacophony of cheers rang out as nearly all of the gathered monsters pledged themselves to treason.

No one noticed the holdouts. Two figures in the back looked at each other and quietly filed out. They were pretty sure no one noticed them but they still tried not to draw attention. But it was fine. No one paid them any mind. No one watched them, no one hurriedly chased after them. They shuffled down the road, heads drooped. After three or four blocks they sighed; one pulled the pillowcase with holes for the eyes cut out off their head and the other pulled the hood of their raincoat back.

One sighed. "Well."

The other winced. "That was, like…"

Bratty and Catty looked at each other and said in unison, "… such a total barf-out!"

"I thought it was gonna be, like, a support group?" Catty whined. "So we could, you know, get it out of our systems! Help each other deal with that human getting away with it."

"Oh I know!" Bratty agreed. "But instead they, like, wanna hurt Asgore? And destroy humanity?"

"No longer hype for that."

" _So_ over that! It would make Frisk sad, and who'd wanna do anything to make such a cute kid cry?"

"It's gross!"

"Totally!"

They looked over their shoulders, each of them thinking the same thing. Nobody else followed them out. Whoever that blowhard was, a bunch of people seemed to agree with them. That would be trouble…

"Hey, Bratty, I was thinking…"

"Ooh, I was thinking too, and I got a really good idea!"

"You did? I got an idea too! You know, I bet it's the same one."

"Yeah! We are always, like, so totally in sync. On three?"

They counted to three, pointed to each other, and said at the same time, "We have _totally_ gotta warn Alphys about those guys!" They giggled and shrieked, "Best friends for- _ever_!", as their unbreakable bond was proven once again.


	18. Schoolground Honor

_There was still some time left before she would inevitably hear of the barrier being destroyed, so Toriel decided she would spend those moments with Chara. Had she done right by them? Was this what they would have wanted? She could not admit it out loud, but she bore some responsibility for how things turned out. She might have been able to talk Asgore out of his disastrous plan. She could have at least tried. She should have tried, she would have if it had only been Asgore. But the people heard his wicked scheme and cheered. They celebrated and longed for the death of humans. Her entire world fell out from under her. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to her soul, and it shattered to reveal it had been hollow all along. Humans were troubled, yes, but they must have been like Chara; fearful, awkward, slow to trust, but with a good soul underneath their layers of protective armor. None of the monsters cared about that; they wanted to kill them all for the crimes of a small few. She could not lead people that could do that. She would not rule alongside a king who would stoke that kind of hatred._

 _She had been so preoccupied with her own pain she never thought of Asgore's. Never considered the devastating effect losing Chara and Asriel would have on the people. Not just the grief and despair she experienced either; monsters died in the wake of that news. Even if it felt like her soul would rip in two she would still be herself, she would continue to exist. For many people the Prince dying snapped the last tethers of hope from which they clung to life. Perhaps Asgore might not have consciously intended to do so, but he saved people's lives. And what did she do instead? Tried, and failed, seven times to keep children locked up in her home. Every one of them rebelled against her. Did she fail to impress upon them what would happen if they left? Or… or had she been mistaken all along to think safety was more important than freedom?_

" _You still miss 'em, huh?"_

 _She gasped as she whirled around, hand on her chest to slow her breathing. A large-ish golden flower with a face had sprouted from the ground a few paces behind her, watching her with a blank expression. "Oh, it's you," she said, summoning flames in her other hand. "You're the one who tried to kill the human child."_

 _The flower rubbed two leaves together like he was wringing his hands, a sheepish grin on his face. "Look, I'm really sorry about that," he wheedled. "I wasn't actually gonna hurt the kid, you know, I just wanted to scare 'em a little. You know, make sure they were strong enough to survive down here." She remembered those words. Hearing that phrase from someone else's lips shocked her deeply, enough to leave the flower an opening. "Anyway, there's something buried in this flower patch, right? It must have meant a lot to you."_

 _Toriel responded coldly, "I have no wish to discuss it."_

 _The flower stared at her with an artificially blank expression. "Fair enough," he said. Then he was silent for a long moment. "I can burrow straight under the door, you know. I've been keeping an eye on them, making sure they don't get hurt, seeing what they get up to, keeping their focus on their goal. It's pretty fun, to be honest! I hope that's enough to, you know, let you forgive me. I do feel really bad about the whole thing, honestly. I'm Flowey, by the way. Flowey the Flower. Thought you might like to know."_

 _She should have told him to shoo. He had no right to intrude on this private moment or be in this private place. But none of the other monsters of the Ruins ever tried to engage her in conversation. Thirty years and she was as much a stranger to them as she ever was. And… he mentioned them. The child. She had never even gotten their name. She had never asked for it. Perhaps a small part of her never wanted to know. She stared at him for a moment but quickly came to a decision and doused her flames. "It seems our first meeting was under poor circumstances, so I would like to start again from the beginning. It is good to finally make your acquaintance, Flowey. I am Toriel."_

" _Toriel," the flower repeated. There was a gap of silence precisely one-and-a-half seconds long, enough for her to wonder whether he recognized the name but not so long for the pause to feel unnatural. Then he smiled broadly. "Thanks for giving me another chance, Toriel. You won't regret it!"_

" _I should hope not." She turned back toward the unmarked grave. Both of them stood in silence for a few moments as she worked up the nerve to ask. Desperation tinged her features. "Are they…?"_

 _Flowey did not seem to need more than that to guess what she was asking. "The human? Oh, they're an absolute angel! Haven't raised their hand once to hurt anybody, but instead they've been making friends all across the Underground! Good thing too. You had the chance to keep them here, so if they killed anybody it'd be your fault in a way. At least some people would claim that."_

 _Toriel huffed their displeasure. "People already need to take responsibility for their own actions. It is unjust to ask them to accept the consequences of another's."_

" _Yeah, I guess so." Beat, two, three, four… "Of course, their luck can't last much longer. They've almost made it to Asgore, and you know he's not gonna accept any hugs of friendship. I mean, let's ignore for a moment how completely one-sided that match-up is. A boss monster with unmatched magical power, military experience, and over a thousand years to hone his craft versus a LOVE 1 child. But hey, humans have strong souls. Maybe they'll get lucky. Or maybe Asgore's guilt and cowardice will catch up with him and he'll throw the fight rather than live up to his promise of fighting a war he doesn't want and he knows monsters can't win. Certainly sounds like something he'd do, you have to admit."_

 _She clenched her fists hard enough to leave scratches on her palms. "What that man does is none of my concern. If Asgore does not want to fight, the child will let him live. I have no doubt they will not kill him."_

" _But they're going to have to, right? If they want to leave bad enough to fight you and trek all that way, they're not gonna turn around and give up just 'cause they need a boss monster soul. You're behind a huge locked door, so that leaves them only one option." She glared at the flower, fury burning behind her retinas. Flowey leaned back and held up two leaves defensively. "Woah, hey, I'm not trying to scare you. I just thought you might want to, you know, think about checking up on him in a couple days. He hasn't let himself open up to people lately. Nobody really knows him that well anymore, not even old Gerson. You're probably the only one who knows where he'd want his dust spread."_

 _She could almost see his face hovering in the air. Asgore, the old Asgore from before, holding their infant son and smiling with an open mouth and closed eyes. His large paws, so strong but so gentle. His luxurious mane. His eyes twinkling with kindness and his radiant smile. Then his form dissolved into a pile of gray silt, blown away at once by a passing wind. She could not love him, but she still cared for him after all. She hated herself for it, denied that she did, but it was true. Why else would she lie to herself? Why else would she pretend not to know praying for the child's safety was the same as praying for her ex-husband's death?_

 _The flower continued as though this was all just an idle thought experiment, someone else's problem. "Buuuuut you're probably right. Whatever happens to him is none of your business. I mean, he's killed children. Maybe not all of them, maybe not directly, but at the very least his decree set up the conditions for them to die. You said it yourself, you can't be responsible for his actions. Isn't it justice if a murderer gets killed by their potential victim? Let's be honest, he's had this coming for a long time. So you know what, forget I said anything. Oh, would you look at the time, I'll leave you to whatever you were doing here. See you!" And then he was gone, burrowing into a hole in the dirt._

 _She ran. She bolted down the hallway, past the puzzles, all the way home. She took the stairs down two at a time, nearly tripping over her own feet, but that was unimportant. She had made a mistake. She had made a huge error in judgment. She could not believe she could be so stupid! Thirty years, and it never once occurred to her a human might kill Asgore instead?! Yes, she told those children to pursue peaceful solutions, but how many of them would die rather than kill? Would this newest child? She slammed into the doors leading to the rest of the underground, palms against the doors while panting. This was it. If she opened these doors there was no going back. She hesitated for less than a second and pushed her way through, ignoring the blast of cold air or the snow that buried the tips of her toes. She was off again, not bothering to close the doors behind her. What could it matter? And besides, the few seconds it took to close them might be the few seconds that made the difference. Over the fields, across the hills, through the land of blinding white._

 _It was not too late. She could not, must not be too late._

* * *

The next day Frisk stepped off the bus with a heavy sigh. They still did not know what they were going to do about Kyle. They had considered the problem from several different angles. He had run out on their scheduled fight, but they were unsure whether anyone else in their grade knew that. And if so, what did it mean? Frisk had never backed down from a schoolyard fight, they were given to understand that doing so was unthinkable, but what were you supposed to do if your opponent actually did it? It was clear a trust had been breached; if it was a friend that did it you could stop being friends with them, but if your enemy wronged you how were you supposed to let them know what they did was not okay?

The bus did not arrive until shortly before the morning bell, so the children had no time to stop in the playground to socialize. They stepped off the bus in single file and proceeded directly into the building, a line of light coats and backpacks. Normally the steps were clear, but today someone was sitting on them like a chewed-up piece of gum. Frisk was maybe a couple inches smaller than the average for their class, so they saw the identity of the person on the steps before he saw them: Kyle. When he finally caught sight of Frisk his back straightened and he did a single perfunctory nod. The idle chatter around Frisk hushed and kids hurriedly moved out from between the two of them. They were all watching to see what Frisk would do, and were ready to interpret what happened the previous day based on the next few seconds.

Frisk considered their options. They could let it slide. Maybe if they just nodded back it would signal to the other kids they had an understanding and that would be the end of it. Frisk would not tell anyone Kyle wimped out, Frisk wouldn't get picked on anymore, and that would be that. Someone had to not be mean when it was their turn or it would never end. But they tried that before, a lot of times at other schools, and it never worked. (It had worked with the monsters, a small and easily silenced part of their brain objected.) Besides, they were mad. They missed their bus for a fight Kyle never showed up to. He had to pay.

Frisk opened their eyes to lock their gaze with Kyle's. They stared at each other for a long moment before Frisk very slowly stuffed their hands under their armpits and waved their elbows up and down. A collective gasp shot up from the throng as they realized what Frisk was accusing Kyle of. Chara provided, "You taunt Kyle by flapping your elbows like chicken wings. Kyle's DEFENSE dropped! Kyle's ATTACK-"

They had to give Kyle credit, he was _fast_. He crossed the distance between them in three big strides and delivered a right hook to Frisk's face before they could get their hands back into a ready position. Frisk heard the "HEY!" of a teacher a split second before their back hit the ground.

* * *

 _Oh, so you've finally gotten around to talking to me. That's nice. Everyone always ignores me, or try to rush me through the conversation. It's very rude and so discouraging._

"Mmm," Undyne nodded, writing something in a notebook. She looked down at the Froggit with her good eye and asked, "So, I take it you've heard about me?"

 _Only a little,_ the Froggit croaked back. _You took over as Captain of the Royal Guard after Quilt retired, right?_

"I actually took over the position from Doge. He replaced Quilt."

 _Doge? Ah, he was a good boy, a very good boy. What is he up to these days?_

"I'm sorry, he's dead," Undyne sighed. "The seventh human got him."

… _Really? And we're supposed to make peace with the humans after that?_

"It was self-defense, from the kid's perspective. Kinda hard to blame him when Doge was coming to kill him. So, what can you tell me about Toriel? The lady who used to live in the house?"

 _Honestly, not very much. We're all intimidated by her._

"Did you know she was the Queen?"

 _It would be hard not to notice that. We aren't stupid. But what did it matter? She was blocking the only way to the rest of the Underground, so we couldn't have told anyone. And if she was living her and not the castle… well, that wasn't our place to pry._

"Right, of course," Undyne muttered. "One last question. You say the humans all visited Toriel?"

 _Humans went into that house, and more often than not they never came out. My father remembered playing with one of the humans, a sweet girl named Marijane. I heard she survived after all. If you see her, can you ask if she remembersa Froggit named Ribbeek? It would make his day if she remembered him after all this time._

"I'll pass your message along," she said. "Thank you for your time. You're free to go."

 _And thank you for listening to me, captain._ With that the Froggit hopped away.

Undyne put her notebook away and started heading back through the purple tunnels of the Ruins. It was almost noon, and she had received a message that Asgore would be returning to the Underground that evening. There was a lot she needed to prepare for, and besides which her investigation had not turned up any new information in days. It was entirely possible the thing she wanted most to know was simply not here to find. She traced a finger along the purple wall, coming away with a smudge of gray dust. Toriel supposedly had been the one to upkeep the Ruins for the past thirty years, and Undyne believed it. The other monsters had grown complacent about maintaining safety and cleanliness standards: why bother working when the scary Boss Monster would be doing it all anyway? So once Toriel left everything started going downhill, fast. Opening the doors of the Ruins had the added effect of allowing all the monsters in the Ruins out; there were still quite a few monsters here when Undyne first arrived, but every day more and more people left to be with their families in the capital or Waterfall. Undyne even provided security on the day the heated limo came by to pick up the lost spider clansmen. The only ones left were the ones who were raring to go as soon as they finished packing, the older monsters for whom the last month had been more action than they had seen in their entire lives and they would just as soon not have any more of it quite yet, and the ones providing vital services to those still remaining who had already dedicated themselves to being the ones to put their chairs up and shut off the lights on their way out. At this rate the entire Ruins would be empty within half a year. It was just as well; the exile Toriel submitted the Ruins to predated the completion of the CORE, so there was no electricity anywhere. In terms of technology and culture the Ruins were hopelessly obsolete. The amount of money and work it would take to repair and modernize it would take more than half the treasury's stockpile, and that was gold desperately needed to get more monsters to the surface and secure a life and livelihood there. It was hopeless; the Ruins were not salvageable. Better to transport any books, artifacts, and valuables out and seal them back up once everyone else was gone. Let it all collapse.

That was the task Undyne had given herself when she arrived back in the Underground; to finally examine the Ruins and give her honest opinion in time for Asgore to decide what to do about them. He may have to give up his crown someday soon to become an ordinary citizen of the United States, but under this mountain Asgore would always be King. It was not exactly work she was suited for, but she needed to be doing something and there weren't enough heads to crack. But once she arrived she realized she had a second important task.

She returned to the house which sat on top of the entrance to the rest of the Underground. Undyne had decided to make it her base of operations while she surveyed the Ruins. She cleaned up the remains of a pie that a dog or other wild animal had gotten into and practiced her fire magic daily with poor results; she had never been great at it and had fallen out of practice with it since, but getting called out by Toriel inspired her to pick it back up again. Not to mention, too many bowls of instant noodles were draining Alphys of her spirit; Undyne needed to up her cooking game as soon as possible. She had survived on her own cooking these past few weeks, introducing herself as former Captain of the Royal Guard to the citizens of the Ruins by day and staying up into the late night chatting with Alphys. Mostly it was Undyne doing the talking, Alphys content to listen and make the occasional noise to let her know she had not fallen asleep. The lizard got so flustered about talking on the phone for some reason. Undyne thought it was adorable, though it was hard to appreciate when she couldn't watch Alphys blush hard enough for steam to shoot out her ears. Not literally, of course, but-

… But what if she _did_ get so embarrassed she literally shot steam out her ears? Undyne made a mental note to try that, because it sounded awesome and totally cute and Alphys would love her for it! Eventually. Well, she probably wouldn't get _that_ mad about it.

She walked through the basement and returned to the Room, as she had taken to calling it, one last time. Scorch marks littered the walls where fireballs had exploded. The black marks could be wiped away with little effort, implying they were either recent or Toriel had neglected cleaning the area for a long time before leaving (and considering the reports of her meticulous caretaking of the other sections of the ruins Undyne severely doubted the latter explanation). A scuffled pathway had been marked up through the center of the room, inadvertently made by the Ruins monsters in their haste to leave. She bent over the scattershot debris, rolling a tiny piece of granite between her thumb and forefinger as if doing this for the hundredth time would tell her something it had not the previous 99 times. She was too good of a guardswoman and had seen too much to avoid recognizing the Room for what it was: the scene of a battle. Only two people came through here prior to the barrier breaking: Toriel, and Frisk. Of all the monsters in the Ruins, Toriel was the only one with enough mastery of fire magic to use it in combat. That was where her deductions stopped. The obvious conclusion, who Toriel had to have been fighting, seemed impossible. There was only one person it could be, but that could not have been the solution. Even if it was only for a few days Undyne saw herself how Toriel doted on Frisk. She truly cared for them, and wanted only the best for them. For their part Frisk never showed any hesitation about trusting Toriel, they opened their heart to her fully. But how was any of that reflected in the Room? How was she supposed to reconcile what must have happened here with what she saw with her own eyes?

There was nothing for it. She walked out the doors and into Snowdin, the barrier room on the other end of the Underground her destination. She was bad at this investigating stuff anyway. Find the culprit and scare a confession out of them, that was more her style.

* * *

Frisk held the icepack against their eye with their left hand. The swelling likely would have made them unable to open their eye even if the Underground had not made them so hard to open normally. Over their shoulder Chara rubbed their own eye, though theirs at least was not swelling. "So now I've been punched," they grumbled. "I thought you said you weren't going to get hurt."

"Worth it," Frisk whispered. Later they would feel shame for stooping down to that level. For now, though, wounded pride and indignation covered it up. Stupid idiot coward Kyle, ran away from a fair fight only to deck them in front of a teacher. What the heck was he after?

"I should hope not," a droning voice came from the other end of the room. Mr. Moulton, the school nurse, had their back to Frisk but had still picked up on what they said. "Provoking a boy twice your size, you are rather lucky to get away with only one punch."

"He started it," they pouted.

"I'm sure he did." Ugh, he was talking as though who was to blame for the whole mess did not matter, when it was literally the most important thing. Why didn't grown-ups ever get that? Mr. Moulton rolled over in his chair. "Now then, lower the icepack, let me see the damage. Hmmmm, no blood, that's good. The swelling should go down in a day or two. It will be tender until then so try not to poke at it, and put some ice on it if it starts to hurt. Looks like it's going to leave you with a black eye. There'll be no hiding it, so I hope you're prepared for the attention. You can rest here if you like, or you can return to class if you feel up to it."

Frisk shook their head. "I'll be fine, I'll go back to class." Remembering what they were supposed to say they added, "Thank you Mr. Moulton." His expression did not change but he waved them goodbye.

The halls had a different feel when there were no kids scrambling in every direction. They had to walk by the third-grader's rooms to get back to Ms. Liao's, but they paid Frisk no mind. Their bruise was on the eye facing away from them, after all. When they entered the classroom every head turned toward them including the teacher. Ms. Liao looked disappointed, hurting Frisk in the heart. "I won't ask about what happened," she said. "Go ahead and take your seat. We're studying math now, as the rest of the class knows we're talking about borrowing and carrying over. That's how we add and subtract with two or even three digit numbers!" Frisk returned to their desk and got out their number strip. As long as they knew they were dealing with numbers they were mostly okay; it was only the 7s that gave them trouble, depending on how they were drawn they could look too much like a 1 or a 9. Still, it could not hurt to be careful.

The day progressed like normal, though it was a little hard to concentrate when their eye hurt. Chara kept them on task with their enthusiasm. Chara may have been a quicker study than Frisk but they started behind them in a lot of subjects. When they thought about it that made sense; Chara had never gone to school on the surface, instead learning through the internet on subjects that appealed to them and stagnating on whatever did not catch their interest. Frisk realized that was probably why Chara knew lots of big words but was not much better at math than Frisk was, as well as other gaps in their education. Now that Frisk could take their tests orally their grades were much improved; they cried the first time they got a quiz back and not only didn't fail, but got a 95, enough to put them in the top 5 of the class. Sure, it took them half an hour to answer 10 questions, but then it kept happening, they kept getting high marks, and a tiny part of them was finally, finally starting to believe that maybe they weren't stupid after all.

The moment recess began kids crowded around their desk eagerly. Chara floated into the air to keep from getting claustrophobic, but Frisk could not help but smile. They felt like a rock star.

"So what happened?" one kid asked. "Yesterday, after school, with you and Kyle?"

"He ran away," Frisk said. "He never showed up."

The other kids stared in amazement. "What, really? Then where'd you get the black eye?"

"I saw it!" One of the other boys piped up. "Frisk called him a chicken right in front of the school and Kyle hit them! He got suspended for a week!"

"And I saw Kyle get in his mom's car yesterday," a girl said. "He wasn't even trying to get out or argue. He really did run away like a scaredy-cat!"

Uh oh, one of Kyle's lackeys was in Frisk's class. He blustered, "Then how come he punched Frisk today if he's scared of them, huh?!"

The same girl shouted him down, "That's 'cause he knew a teacher would see him and stop the fight before Frisk could punch back!"

A chorus of voices rang out, "Eeeeeeew!" "That's low!" "Totally weak!" Kyle's friend had no rebuttal and slunk away in defeat.

Frisk bounced a little in their seat. This never happened when they won a fight. This was totally new! They did not understand what they did or why it was working, but they knew they were finally making progress. They were closer to making real friends!

Or not. Most of the kids were talking amongst themselves and getting ready to go outside for recess, floating away from Frisk's desk as they did so. No one was looking at them anymore. What? But… they were all so interested a moment ago. Why? What happened?

At the front of the room Ms. Liao pursed her lips and sighed. It should not be taking this long for Frisk to fit in. But if she tried to force the other kids to be sociable with them it could have the opposite effect. What was she going to do…?

* * *

The conspiracy against Asgore was meeting again this morning. This was a crucial moment: Asgore would be spending the weekend in the Underground for the first time since the barrier broke. Ever since Dr. Alphys got the Kingdom hooked up to the surface Internet monsters had been avidly following what humans thought of monsters. Most were wary but optimistic as humans had been generally accepting, with only a few but vocal detractors online. The monsters gathered here, however, realized this was bad for their plans; if King Asgore were to sign a treaty or make other promises to the humans, it would be difficult if not impossible for him to go back on his word later and declare war. If something was to be done, it would have to be tomorrow, on the day Asgore would return to the Underground. If they waited any longer they would miss their opportunity. And they had the perfect idea for what to do.

"No!" said the one in a black cloak. "Your plan is stupid! We are not ready to act so soon! And beyond that, your target-!"

"It is the only way to get Asgore to listen to us!" said a large monster. A bedsheet covered them from head to toe and even dragged along the ground behind them; holes had been thoughtfully cut out for the bull's horns on the top of their head and for their eyes. "This is the only chance we will get for some time. You heard what Flappy said-"

"Come _on_!" said a bat creature with a rubber human mask pulled unconvincingly over its head. "You can't call me by my real name, we're all supposed to not know who each other are! It's that, whatchacallit, 'operational security'?"

"Yes," said Black Cloak. "That way if some of us get captured or sells us out to the guard, some of us will still escape to fight again."

"Well fine," the large bedsheet monster said. "Then what are we supposed to call you?"

The bat curled up its wings to make a dramatic pose. "I'm Manbat!"

A chorus of groans erupted from the participants. Bedsheet sighed, "Fine, you heard what _Manbat_ said. The monster ambassador is getting closer to making peace with humans every day. By the time Asgore makes another visit he might have already disbanded the kingdom! If we don't strike now then it will be too late!"

"But we cannot let _this_ be our first action! We must stoke the fury of the people against Asgore, so we can present a united front! He will bend to populist pressure, but not to-!"

"That's where you're wrong!" Manbat snickered. "Asgore's a paper tiger; he may look threatening but everyone knows he's too soft to do anything to stop us. Meanwhile, we will show not just Asgore but all monsters the depths of our convictions. All the people in the capital will beg us to take command, and then we will be able to lead them to glorious war!" A rousing cheer went up from all the other monsters in attendance, save one.

"You're all fools!" Black Cloak pounded a fist on the table. "The people will join those with pure hearts, not craven terrorists! We cannot force anyone onto the path, we must have faith that when the time comes the people will follow our lead!"

"Maybe it's you who has lost faith," Bedsheet murmured. "You said yourself that decisive action was needed, but when it comes time to act you would rather waste your chance than seize your destiny. Fine!" Bedsheet leaned over to point his horns at the door. "If you cannot stand with us, then at least do not stand in our way."

Black Cloak looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time. Perhaps it really was the first time they were seeing it as it was and not as they wished it to be. Even with everyone's faces hidden they could tell by posture and body language that they had no allies here. In their hearts everyone had already signed on to this ill-fated plan. If they stayed they were taking their own life in their hands. It was time to go. They walked out of the meeting room without another word, and they did not even have time to shut the door behind them before conversation and planning started up again.

Ejected from their own coup attempt! How shameful could you get? They removed their cloak and walked the streets of the capital with it bundled in their arms. Stupid. They had been so stupid. It was not supposed to be like this. They never wanted to hurt anyone, at least not any monsters. They wanted… they did not know what they wanted anymore, what they expected to happen. Were they expecting to be able to kill Asgore, or force him to step down, or have him accept a figurehead role? Did they even have a plan to win a war against humanity? Or were they simply fanning their own impotent rage? That was what it was, in the end. Monsters were too weak, and too few, and too damned stupid! Their anger flared up again at the memory of their shabby treatment at the hands of their own 'allies', but it faded into self-recrimination. They brought them in the first place, in the end they had no one to blame but themself. They could feel their HP dropping, disgust and resignation sapping their very life with every step.

Today. The others would have to strike today. They would swiftly come to that conclusion, there was only a limited window that the target would be viable. Even if they did everything perfectly a lot of innocent monsters were going to get hurt, maybe even dust. Someone should warn the guard. Could they really do that, though? They were the one who called those monsters in, who stoked their anger, who insisted they had to unite. Were they really so much of a traitor that they would sell out those same allies and spoil their plans? It felt like a craven act. They had been let go specifically because the rest of their would-be compatriots trusted them. Could they betray that loyalty? … But could they betray their loyalty to the Kingdom, and all the monsters they were about to senselessly hurt? And, would they be able to escape the King's judgment when the others pointed their finger at them as the instigator?

A letter. They would write an anonymous letter warning the Guard and send it in. Let them know where the attack would take place, even if they did not know precisely when. That was the least they could do. They only hoped it would be enough to let their conscience rest.

* * *

Frisk waved goodbye to the bus driver and straightened their backpack. What a way to start the weekend. Might as well get it over with. He opened the front door of Silas' condo without needing to unlock it. Toriel was home most days now, lacking the ability to drive and limited in her desire to leave home. Sometimes she would go grocery shopping or pick up fabric to make new clothes, refusing to buckle under the weight of open stares and whispered murmurs, but that was all. When Frisk opened the door they did not see her immediately but… ack! Silas was in the chair, reading something on his phone. They were not ready to see him yet! Silas turned to greet them but did a double take. A cloud darkened his face. "Frisk," he said. "Who gave you that?"

Frisk put their hands behind the back and looked away. "Gave me what?" they asked innocently.

"What do you think I'm talking about, your eye!" Silas put his phone away and rushed over to them, urging Frisk to face him so he could get a better look. "Already starting to darken… what happened?"

Frisk shrugged, not willing to explain their part in the altercation. "A kid hit me at school. They got sis-… susembed."

Silas clicked his tongue. "Suspended? Well, that's something I suppose…"

Toriel came down the stairs at that moment, carting an empty laundry basket with her. "Hello Frisk, welcome ba- Goodness!" She set the basket down and rushed over. "Frisk, what happened to your eye?"

"I got punched by another kid," Frisk explained. They did not want to call it a "fight", usually you got a chance to punch back in a fight.

Toriel frowned. "… Has this happened before?" Frisk shook their head. Which was not a lie, it had not happened at this school. "Very well. Hold still, Frisk, let me heal you…"

"Wait," Silas stopped her. "It normally takes a week or two for a black eye to heal, if they're all better tomorrow they might ask questions about it. What do you think, Frisk?"

It took Frisk a moment to understand what he meant. Oh! Silas must be worried the other kids would think they were faking their injury if it was healed! He was so thoughtful! "I'll be okay Toriel. It'll be gone in time for…" Deep breath. They could get it this time. "Ha-woah-ween."

"Very good try!" Toriel said, which meant it was wrong. But Toriel's smile was bright and wide, so it was hard to feel bad about it. "It's Ha-LOW-ween. Low, with an 'l'! But that's much better, you're sure to have it right by the end of the month." She stood up and asked, "Will Marty be home for dinner tonight?"

"He should be," Silas explained. "He brought Asgore and Papyrus back to the mountain around noontime, so he should be back in town by now. He probably got distracted or is running another couple errands, but he won't pass up free food. Rest assured he'll be here by dinnertime. Speaking of those two, are Asgore and Papyrus going to be okay?"

Toriel barked a laugh. "There is not a single person in the Underground more beloved than Asgore, and they will recognize the efforts Papyrus has put in as the official ambassador. I am sure they will experience no trouble, and will have nothing but good things to tell us when they return!"

* * *

AN: Kids have a system of fairness that adults forget about when they grow up: don't snitch to the grown-ups, don't back down from a dare, and all the fault for a fight rightly belongs to whoever Started It. It has problems, like any other system of justice, but simply because it's primitive doesn't mean kids don't take it deadly serious.


	19. The Return of the King

WARNING: This chapter contains armed terrorism and threats against children. For those who need it, a more complete content warning has been provided in the closing notes for the chapter. AO3 users can click the below link to skip to the chapter endnotes; FFN readers will have to scroll down to the bottom of the chapter manually.

* * *

Burning the midnight oil was easier when you were used to living in darkness. Alphys had barely gotten a connection going to the human internet when a new task got dumped on her, or rather an old job was reactivated. It turned out there was one clue Toriel and Asgore had not mentioned because they did not know it was important: Chara had an extremely rare condition called non-albino ruboculus which gave their eyes red irises from birth. Alphys really ought to have complained about being sent back out on the hunt so shortly after finishing her major project, especially because she had never actually gone to sleep last night. But the truth was that after running into a brick wall trying to find Chara her curiosity was piqued. She loved a good puzzle as much as the next monster, and this one was a real doozy. She was getting better at navigating the human internet all the time, and with a new lead she was sure she could crack the case this time. She was coming at it with fresh eyes after a month spent getting the rest of the monsters hooked up, so she had high hopes. Time to see how long those would last.

She cracked her fingers with a sigh. First step, see if someone had already done the hard work for her. If non-albino ruboculus was really so rare, someone might have gone to the trouble to track each and every person who had it. She typed the condition into the search bar and brought up a list of sites. Wikimedia pages, advice columnist letters, WebMD… aha! Here it was! Alphys clicked around the site to get the basic idea: non-albino ruboculus was treated to this day with superstition and hate, and the site she found was dedicated to show people with the condition were like anyone else and serve as a support group for anyone who had it. Alphys ignored the forums and went straight to the collected biographies. A line of links went down the page, each one leading to a story about someone with red eyes being treated with distrust and contempt, often with fatal consequences. The year of their births and deaths were listed next to each person's name, arranged in order of birth. Chara would have been somewhere between the ages of 6 and 12 when they fell into the underground in 201X, so only people born 6-12 years before that would be an eligible candidate. That was a pretty narrow band to search through; only four names in total were in that six-year range. Alphys tried to keep her expectations low; she did not see the name "Frisk Holder" on this list so she already knew it was not exhaustive.

First was Laksmi Patel, no death date listed. Pass. Next was George Summers, with the same year listed for their birth and their death. Alphys very carefully did not think about the implications of that. Next was Cassandra Pelham. Born in Concord, New Hampshire? Alphys leaned forward in her chair and scrolled down. This could be it. She could be the one who fell in 201X! Oh, but she died in late June of that very same year. Alphys blinked. Late June? Wasn't that when Chara fell? It was possible that Cassandra went missing and everyone assumed she died, when in reality she fell into the Underground and became Chara. She double-checked the dates: Chara fell on June 24th. Cassandra's death was recorded as June 27th. She pounded her fist on the table, her bottle of soda fizzing up in protest. Damn it! Everything else fit so perfectly! Red eyes, the right age, even the right location… she was so sure! But dates didn't lie; at the same time Chara was being welcomed by the monster royal family Cassandra was still with her own family living her last days. They were two different people. They had to be.

… Unless…

New tab, search terms: "Cassandra Pelham 201X". Local news articles ran down the screen, all of them from the end of June or early July 201X. The earliest article was titled, "Girl Lost at Sea, Presumed Drowned". 'Presumed'? A tiny flame of hope lit in her heart. If there was never a body recovered, then maybe. One of the other articles was titled "Doubts Over Girl's Disappearance"; she opened it with a shaking claw. Her eyes skimmed over the body of the text and she found the keywords she was looking for: "suspicious circumstances", "inconsistent testimony", "no body recovered". She doubled back to read the whole thing and hit pay dirt. It turned out Cassandra's caretakers, Avril and James Pelham, were actually her grandparents. They had taken in Cassandra and her older sister Carol (a sister? Alphys scratched out a note before reading on) after their father died a little more than two years earlier. An unnamed member of Child Protective Services had leaked to the tabloid that at the time of Cassandra's death a case was being developed against them: there had been concerns that both sisters but Cassandra especially were showing signs and symptoms of abuse. The informant believed the Pelhams had murdered the girl to keep her from testifying against them and staged a phony boat accident to explain her disappearance. Or, Alphys thought wryly, they tossed her into a hole in the mountain expecting her to never be found. Alphys was feeling so confident she decided to start using 'they' pronouns for Cassandra. They had to be Chara. They _had_ to be.

Of course, if Avril and James were the child's grandparents thirty years ago… there was little chance of them still being alive. Even if they were they had faked a child's death and quite possibly attempted to murder their own grandchild. Letting them know evidence existed which proved their involvement in the crime would be unwise. But what about Carol? The article said Cassandra's sister was only ten years old at the time, so she would be in her early forties now. It was totally possible for her to still be alive and it was unlikely she was involved in whatever the Pelhams did to Cassandra. Still, how would they find her? It did not seem like a common name, but if she no longer lived in the area billions of humans was a lot to sift through. It was too easy to lose track of a single person in that, especially if all you had to go on was a name and where they grew up.

First thing's first, she had to get rid of the obvious possibilities. The direct approach probably would not work, but she had to at least try. New tab. Search term 'Carol Pel-' Huh. Auto-complete filled in the rest of her name. How odd. She hit the Enter key before considering what that might have meant, otherwise she might not have been so surprised by the results. Several news videos about a woman named 'Carol Caroli' dominated the top of the results page. Next was a sidebar of multiple photographs of the same woman with auburn hair and a blindingly white smile in various outfits, from formal gowns to casual denim and a yellow crop top to a one-piece business suit to a bikini. These photos were subtitled with the same name. Alphys frowned. What kind of trash coding was this? A list of frequently asked questions peeked out from the bottom of the window and Alphys scrolled down to see them better. 'Who is Carol Pelham?' Alphys clicked on the link for the answer: Carol Pelham was the birth name of actress and filmmaker Carol Caroli. Oh, okay then. She clicked on a bio of Carol Caroli: age 41, born in Concord, New Hampshire, adopted by her grandparents when she was nine, and! She had a sibling, Cassandra, who died in a boating accident when she was eleven! That was her! She was the one!

… Now how to reach her? She probably had several layers of insulation between herself and a person off the street, if Mettaton's behavior were anything to go by. Still, there ought to be some way… Aha! There it was, an email address! An email would be a lot easier than trying to talk on the phone but not effortless. Before anything, however, she needed to share this info with Toriel. Alphys chuckled to herself as she started writing out her conclusion, feeling smug. All she had needed to break the case wide open was that little hint. She was not a former Royal Scientist for nothing!

There was a knock on her door just as she was celebrating. In her good mood she had momentarily forgotten she was not in any shape for visitors; only after opening the doors did she notice the reams of paper littering the desk, the overflowing trash can, the three bottles of soda (all open, none empty) lined up next to her monitor. She only had time to cringe as her visitors came in, only to perk up in surprise when she saw who they were.

Catty gave her an open mouth smile. "Oh. My god. Alphys!"

Bratty leaned in and opened her arms for a hug. "It's been so long!"

"Y-y-you two!" Alphys got off her chair and hugged Bratty first, then Catty. "I'm sorry I've been so out of touch, science business and all…"

"Oh yeah, totally," Bratty said. "First Mettaton, then those melty goopy things… Amalgamates?… and then the barrier and- you are working yourself to death, girl!"

Alphys dug a toe into the floor sheepishly. "W-well, it's, uh, never a dull moment! Heh heh… and, what have you two, been up to? Sssstaying out of trouble?"

Bratty and Catty looked at each other as their smiles died on their lips. Oh no, what did she say? Did she just offend them somehow? Catty exhaled and said, "Well, you might want to sit down for this? But, we don't know where the Royal Guard went and we got news for them. You have _got_ to use your connections to reach them."

Alphys wrung her hands and stared deeply into them, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. "And, why would I? Um, know where Undyne… I mean, the Guard! The Royal Guard is… where? W-w-w-w-why would I know that?"

Bratty and Catty leaned deeply into her personal space with evil smiles. "Alphys," Catty said. "You post everything to social media before you realize it, you know?"

Bratty added, "So of _course_ when you update your relationship status we're gonna see it, like, instantly!"

They looked at each other. "Riiiiiight?" Oh dear, this was going very, very poorly! She hadn't thought this many people would be aware of her relationship! Even if they had only talked by phone since Undyne began scouting the Ruins.

"But, for serious now," Bratty said. "We've totally gotta get in touch with Undyne? 'Cause there is something majorly bad going on…"

* * *

The drive to Mt. Ebott was pleasant enough; the colors on the trees were in full bloom, a dizzying array of yellow and reds and oranges that Asgore did not ever think he would tire of. True, a hastily-erected security checkpoint at the base of the mountain marred the view somewhat, but it was a minor quibble. The guards at said checkpoint frowned when they were informed Asgore was planning on bringing more people back then what he was heading in with, but he was able to explain he needed vital support staff from the Underground in order to complete the transition. The climb up the mountain proved to be no difficulty either, for all he had to do was follow the narrow dirt road up the slight incline and he would eventually reach the entrance leading to the throne room. No, the only challenging portion of the trek was the home stretch; a sea of reporters, cameramen, and other members of the news media stood between him and the Underground. They would not easily allow him to pass without getting a comment for their viewers.

Elbowing through the crowd of reporters was no mean feat, even if Undyne was to meet them halfway and escort them the rest of the way. Each one thrust a microphone in his face asking about the six children or souls or the barrier or something else. He stuck to saying "No comment" to every question directed at him no matter how dearly he wanted to engage with them. All his instincts told him to be friendly, to invite them into his home for tea and a pleasant chat, but he had been warned the reporters were not his friends and he should not act as though they were. Papyrus completely disregarded this advice, shaking hands and answering any and all questions asked of him. However, for all the distractions he engaged in he was not lagging very far behind Asgore. When he shook hands it was firm but brief, and when he spoke it was of hopes and values and vapid but well-meaning platitudes. It mollified those desperate for a sound bite while avoiding saying anything immediately objectionable or anything so concrete it would limit what the monsters could do later without going back on their word. They were a team, Asgore realized; without him Papyrus would quickly get lost in the throng, and without Papyrus his brisk pace could be seen as insulting. But together they made good time and still left good impressions behind. Asgore was the implacable boulder barreling through any obstacle, and Papyrus was the river flowing into the divot of his wake.

They managed to get nearly inside the mouth of the cave before finally spotting Undyne. She was having much less luck navigating the crowd than the King and the Ambassador, as she was unwilling to knock them around but unsure what else she could get away with. "I don't know anything about that!" she shouted at one reporter, glaring at his microphone. "And the next thing you stick in my face had better be a sandwich, 'cause I'm gonna eat it! Oh, your majesty!"

"Let us make our way inside, Undyne," he said with a smile. "There is much to do and I'd like to finish up by Sunday evening to return to our surface work. Ah, no comment. Excuse us…"

Finally they pushed into the cave, units 01 and 02 of the former Royal Guard moving to prevent the reporters from following Asgore, Undyne, or Papyrus in. Asgore looked around the former barrier room, his nose wrinkling. "Has it always smelled this musty?"

"Nah," Undyne said. "I've been having the boys doing a lot of cleaning. You didn't notice before because you didn't have fresh air to compare it to, but these caves kinda reek."

"I suppose so." He clasped his hands behind his back and stood in front of the boarded-up hole in the wall the flower had made, staring as though he could see past the boards and to the streets of New Home beyond. Then he continued walking, his two subjects following him down the corridor to the throne room. "I heard you led an inspection of the ruins over the last month. Well?"

"The Ruins are unsalvageable," she lamented. "The place is a dump; it's falling apart, it's losing people fast, and the people who remain are out of the loop and far behind on tech. The standard of living is way lower than anywhere else, even Snowdin isn't so backwater. I say you get what cultural writings and artifacts you can and lock it down. I'd say bury the whole place, but it's so deep in that might cause a cave-in. It'll probably fall in on itself sooner or later, might take a decent chunk of the mountain with it. I just hope we can get everyone out before then."

"Oh." His shoulders sank and he heaved a great sigh. He gazed upon the golden flowers around his throne with a wistful air. Someone had been taking care of them in his absence; in truth they did not require much upkeep. A little bit of water to dampen the soil, dig up any weeds that have sprouted, check the stems and petals for pests, not much else. He did not even have to be vigilant about blights, as the golden flower was remarkably hardy against disease. "I remember in the first days of the exile. We went as far into the caves as we could and made our homes there. We erected a great door and placed the home of the royal family on the other side, so any invading force would have to fight through me to get to the rest of the monsters. We spent a very long time like that. Centuries." He put a hand weighted with memories on the throne. "Nearly every monster I knew from the surface who did not die in the original attack or Fall Down after our surrender has their dust in those caves. So it is a special place to me, even if to no one else living. I even had the old stronghold turned into a vacation home after my son's birth. I thought it would be nice to bring him around to where the Kingdom started its life underground. I know he went there occasionally without our knowledge. He even found Chara on one of his secret outings. We never did get around to making a formal trip. He was plenty to deal with, especially once he got a partner in crime." He sighed deeply. "But, if it's falling apart, I suppose it can't be helped. Nothing was meant to last forever." He patted the throne one last time and continued on.

Undyne pursed her lips, then ran to catch up with him. She walked alongside him and asked, "Did you… know your ex-wife was living there?"

"Of course I did. There aren't that many places to go in the Kingdom. But what could I do? She made her wishes quite clear." Truly, she had placed him in a bind. It was unfair of her to seal off the Ruins and keep anyone from leaving. But even if he had a duty to free them as a king, as her ex-husband he was powerless to stop her. It would be unconscionable for him to barge into her place of living after she divorced him. Perhaps a king who could set aside his personal morals for the sake of his people could muster up the courage to do so, but Asgore had spent the last thirty years proving he was not that kind of king.

"Still," Undyne said, scratching her head. "I'm surprised you stayed away for this long. You weren't worried everyone'd get nervous, with you out on the surface for a month?"

"Part of being a good ruler is understanding your own shortcomings," Asgore explained. "I am no good at managing the day-to-day workings of the people, and they have gotten used to not needing my approval for every tiny thing. I had no doubt the kingdom would persist without my hand on the till for a little while. Besides, there was much important work to be done on the service, and no better team to do it than I and my trusted ambassador."

"Oh, Captain!" Papyrus saluted, even though following the dissolution of the Royal Guard he outranked her. "It's been so much fun! I really think I'm starting to get the hang of this 'ambassador' thing! Why, my follower count on human social media has exploded to not just two digits, not just three, but _five!_ It makes me dizzy just to think about it!"

"Really?" Undyne said with a grin. "I'm proud of ya, buddy! Oh, yeah, there was one other thing you should know about. Alphys texted me a little while ago, said there were some monsters raising hell in the capital. Not too many, no more than twenty or so, but they were real mad about making peace with the humans. It seems Rebecca coming back to life _really_ ticked them off, and they're willing to talk war if that's what it takes to punish her."

How foolish of him. After speaking for thirty years of vengeance and war, he could not expect everyone to simply give up the hate in their hearts. Monsters were made of mercy, yes, so many of them happily went along with it. But not all of them would. There would be a few outliers, and he had neglected to plan for that. "I see," he said. "You don't seem concerned."

"I don't think it's anything to worry about," Undyne shrugged. "We can keep an eye on them, but as long as they don't get too antsy we can let them burn themselves out. I figure if they get too mad they'll start aging like crazy, maybe even Fall Down, and the problem will take care of itself."

Asgore nodded, but his heart was troubled. There was nothing wrong with what Undyne was saying. Every word was correct. So why did he have such a bad feeling about this?

* * *

The first monster school, appropriately named School, was built in Home some four or five centuries ago. It served students from first grade to sixth, it being thought at the time that no mandatory schooling beyond sixth grade was necessary. When the majority of the population moved to New Home it was deemed necessary for a new school to be built for a new community. Beliefs in education requirements had shifted, however, and in order to host grades 1 through 12 inclusive a larger building was needed. Thus Asgore authorized construction of Slightly Bigger School in New Home. For many years this one school was enough for the capital, but there was a constant sense of worry in the air as classes got bigger. Following the massacre there was a brief period of depression followed by an almost spiteful surge in births as monsters collectively decided they would not allow a murderous human to make them give up on life. When news went out that only one more soul was needed a second surge of births followed in anticipation of the barrier breaking. It was no longer just a dream; after over a millennium in darkness, King Asgore had brought the barrier to the brink of collapse in only 29 short years. There was a hope if not an expectation that monsters living then would see the sunlight. Now that the barrier was actually gone nearly all the kids in the school were expecting new siblings.

There were exceptions, like Noel. Their father was too weak to carry another child, and their mother led far too busy and hectic a lifestyle to even consider it. It was not as though they did not love each other, their marriage cord still hung at a place of honor opposite the door. But already her mother was having trouble raising Noel by herself, and he did not want to add another burden to her too-heavy load. He kept telling them, "Your mom and dad will get you a sibling just as soon as I lick this illness. It'll be any day now, just you wait!" but he had been saying that for a few months now. He was not getting any worse, at least, but he was not getting any better either. Noel kept their family troubles locked away in their heart, not wanting to ruin the other kids' excitement for their new siblings presenting as disgust and dread.

Most of the rest of her class did not share her melancholy. It was Friday afternoon, with less than an hour to go before the bell let them out for the day. Less than sixty minutes until the weekend! Nothing the teacher said in this time would be retained, everyone was too filled with nervous energy, but she was obligated to hold onto the students until the final bell rang. The teacher asked a question about last night's homework, and someone's hand shot up instantly. A closer look revealed it was a blue wing. Of course it was Berdly, he was usually the first to volunteer, he was the teacher's pet. Back in pre-school he took great pride in being the first monster in his class to declare his gender, even though it had been drilled into their heads over and over again that it was not a competition and it was not at all strange for a monster to keep using "them" or "it" for their entire lives. (For their part Noel was still a little unsure but felt leanings toward female, and if they did decide to be a girl they would try to convince their parents to change their name to the more feminine "Noelle") Berdly did not care; it was an accomplishment to choose his gender so early, so he was going to grab for it and all the praise that went with it. He was one of those kids everyone hated. No one made any attempts to disguise how utterly exasperating he was to be around. However, he coupled this with rare self-awareness: he knew no one liked him and he did not care in the slightest. Noel was the only one who even tolerated him; despite how dismissive he was of everyone she really did admire his boundless confidence and drive to improve himself.

It was a trait he shared with her favorite classmate, Suzy. Suzy had grabbed a chair at the back of the room and was busy doodling on the desk with an old marker, not even attempting to conceal her boredom or her disinterest in the lesson. Susie used to be… well, not a good student, but at least a more pleasant one. But when she got to second grade she changed a lot, becoming more quiet and withdrawn. If anyone tried to talk to her they got monosyllables if they were lucky and angry threats if they weren't. She never wore her white ribbon any more. She smiled a lot less. Noel wished they understood more about what was going on with her, but if she would not open up to anyone there wasn't anything she could do.

Noel thought she heard an unfamiliar voice shouting in the first-grade classroom, but in this case it was what she did not hear that gave her pause. The chatter and rummaging of restless first-graders stopped, and only this new voice could be heard. They did not like it. They liked it even less when they heard many sets of feet, maybe a dozen or more, walking down the hall toward their classroom. They were heavy footfalls, like those of adults, but what would so many adults be doing coming into a school so late in the day? It was not as though King Asgore was supposed to come through, so why-

They got their answer as the door opened and six monsters stepped inside with wide grins and carrying crystallized weapons. The moment they entered the one at the front, a bat-like monster with a rubber human mask stretched over his head, barked orders, "All of ya, out of your seats and against the wall! We don't want any trouble, so just do what you're told and none of ya will get hurt. You too, teacher lady, don't make this any harder than it has to be. Up! Up! Up!"

Noel complied instantly, getting up from her chair and backing away from the intruders. Most of the students followed suit, Berdly extending a wing as he retreated to guide another girl back. The only one who did not move was Suzy. She lifted her head, eyes still hidden behind her hair, and addressed the invading monsters, "Could you keep it down? It's hard to sleep through class when idiots keep interrupting it."

"Quiet you!" The monster stepped up and lifted his hand to slap her across the face, causing Suzy to flinch and fall off her seat.

"No!" the teacher shouted. The monster stopped in mid-swing, continuing to glare down at Suzy. The hair had fallen away from one of Suzy's eyes, revealing a yellow eye with a tiny black pupil. The teacher cried, "Please, don't hurt her. She's just a child, they're all just children, what did any of them ever do to you?!"

Manbat motioned for everyone to settle down. "Relax, we ain't here for you. We just need to send a message to our, uh, 'illustrious leader'. He's doing whatever he feels like doing, but he's forgetting there's a whole lot more of us than there is of him. So he's gonna come back to a nice little crisis. This is the kind of thing that happens when a weakling sits on the throne, you know? Blame Asgore for this, kiddos. If he'd just gone to war like he promised none of this ever would have happened."

"War?" The teacher repeated. "You… you want war? Why? What could more blood and death possibly-"

"Shut up!" one of the monsters said, pointing his sword at her while a white upside-down heart appeared on her chest. The teacher paled and flattened herself against the blackboard. "It's not that we want a war, but war is what the humans deserve! We're not going to accept peace if it means sweeping everything the humans did under the rug!"

Noel took the opportunity to muster their courage and approach Suzy. "C'mon, let's just do what they say for now," they placated, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If we wait the city guard will come and take care of this."

"Ha!" Manbat scoffed. "You think the guard is gonna come in here? Asgore wouldn't want any of them to get hurt."

"Tch," Suzy cursed, scooting up from the floor. Noel was able to drag her back with the other kids. Suzie looked bored, but Noel could tell by the way her hands wrung the end of her skirt and the tapping of her foot that she was as nervous as any of them.

"Just get comfy," Manbat said in a voice he probably thought was reassuring. "Asgore'll come to listen, we'll talk, and that'll be the end of it. We just had to do something big to get his attention and this school was an easy target, that's all. Trust me, this'll all be over soon enough, and then we can all get back to enjoying our weekend."

* * *

Asgore had just entered the living room of his castle at New Home when a bird-like monster barged in the front door. "Your Majesty!" he cried on seeing Asgore, then doubled over to take great pants. "Your majesty, it's… thank god you're here!… I, we…"

Asgore raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, my good man? What is happening?"

"It's…" He recovered his breath and stood at attention, wings at his sides and his beak set. "Sir, we received a letter! It warned us a group of terrorists was about to mobilize and seize control of Slighty Bigger School!"

Asgore blinked. Twice. "What?" he said, out of a lack of ability to say anything else.

"It's no joke, sir! We tried to get a few units to the school but we were too late! It's already been fortified and we can see monsters with crystallized weapons inside!"

"Are you freakin' serious?!" Undyne gritted her teeth and punched a wall, her fist pulverizing the brickwork with casual ease. "What're they doing now?"

"They have begun broadcasting a message using the school's PA system. They are insisting if they were in charge they never would have allowed something like this to happen. They say you are too trusting and unwilling to push back against the humans. They… they're demanding you either abdicate the throne or declare war against humanity. They have not said anything about the children at the school, but they are refusing to let anyone enter or leave. The… the implications are-"

"That's quite enough," Asgore said, raising his paw. "I… understand the situation."

A fire elemental with a classy vest and glasses stepped in through the door. He started, not expecting to find the king so soon, but recovered and began speaking in hands. _King Asgore, do you remember me?_

It only took him a moment. "Grillby! What brings you up to the capital? I thought your business in Snowdin was doing well."

 _Quite well_ , he admitted. _But I came up for your visit and to discuss our plans with my family. But I was about to surprise my daughter by visiting her at school, when_ _… something has happened._

"I have been informed," Asgore said. "The school has been overtaken by ruffians who make impossible demands."

 _Ah, I was coming to inform you of this. But what do you plan to do?_

"Perhaps we can talk with them?" Papyrus suggested. "I… want to think they aren't bad people, that they can do better. But can we really reach them if they've gone so far?"

Asgore clenched his paws into fists, wisps of flame escaping between the cracks. Papyrus' suggestion was what Asgore wanted to do. He wanted to believe this was some sort of misunderstanding, and that if they all sat down for tea together they could work things out. And maybe if they came to him with their grievances that would be possible. But his time on the surface had taught him he was entering a new age, and his previous methods of conflict resolution were insufficient. This was a test, he realized; an attack on his people, an attack on _children_? Tea was an inappropriate remedy. How could he honestly say he would stand up to the humans if they were unjust, if he could not even stand up to his own people?

"No," he said, his voice a low growl. "There will be no negotiations. What they have done is horrible, what they threaten to do is worse." The pattern sprung into his mind like an old friend. With a burst of magic his trident formed into his hand and he tapped the butt of it against the ground. "The time has come, I think, to put on the crown and remind people who they are dealing with."

Undyne's jaw dropped. Then she recovered and pumped her fists. "Oh… YEEEAAAAAH! I'm with you all the way, sir! Just let me at 'em!"

Grillby stepped forward, his back straight. _Please, your majesty, allow me to be part of the strike team. I must do everything I can to secure my daughter_ _'s safety or I will be unable to face Homura again._

"Both of you, I would be honored to have you fight at my side. But remember, we are not acting as the ultimate authority. We live in a human nation and must answer to human laws, and I do not wish to explain to them why there are fewer monsters now then there were yesterday. Do not kill them."

"And me, sir?" Papyrus asked.

"Your assistance will be invaluable," Asgore said, ignoring Undyne making a big "X" with her arms while shaking her head just behind Papyrus. He clapped a paw on Papyrus' shoulder. "Consider yourself deputized." Papyrus nodded furiously while Undyne winced and smacked her forehead with her palm. Undyne had her opinions on Papyrus, but in Asgore's experience he did well at anything he set his mind to. Perhaps she was right and he would not make a good member of the Royal Guard. But for this mission, where they needed to avoid killing in the first place, his strength and supreme self-control would be needed. "Right, then. Shall we go?"

A crowd of monsters had gathered in front of his house; evidently news of the crisis had spread fast and many people had come to petition him for aid. There were concerned murmurs for a moment, but on seeing Asgore with a dignified walk, face marred by a scowl and fists clenched around his signature weapon, they were all silenced. Very few of them had ever seen Asgore with his trident, but no explanation was needed; a crystallized weapon spoke volumes by its mere presence. He was flanked on each side by Undyne and Grillby. Even in casual clothes Undyne's ear-to-ear grin was impossible to misinterpret. As for Grillby, it had been many years since "Grillby" had been a household name in New Home, but not so long as to escape memory entirely. The older monsters in the crowd pointed shaking fingers at him, and for a brief moment they even felt sorry for the terrorists. Last but certainly not least was Papyrus, his brow furrowed in resolve. He swung his arms wide with each step and he stared straight ahead.

Undyne cracked her knuckles as they walked through the crowd. "This is gonna be messy," she admitted. "They'll see us coming through the school courtyard and be ready for us. I don't want to think about them using the kids as shields, but we already know they're stupid and desperate. Who knows what they'll do if we give them reason to panic and enough time to do something about it."

"Uh, why don't you just sneak in the back?" Everyone turned toward the source of the voice. A furry cat-like monster with a small face stood there, paper hat on his head and a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. "I used to go there until last year. There's a back entrance nobody ever uses 'cause it faces a wall."

An incredibly handsome man stepped out in front of the monster and bowed. When he straightened himself up again he waved his hand to brush his magenta hair away from his face, and Asgore could have sworn sparkles filled the air as he did so. "What Burgie meant to say was, if you need any more manpower for your incredibly daring and dangerous mission, you only need to ask."

This manner of speech seemed familiar to Asgore, but where… Oh! This was Alphys' robot, wasn't it? Or, the ghost she had possess a robot? She certainly seemed to have done some work on him. "I would like to keep the team small," he said. "We will draw too much attention otherwise. But, ah, Burgie's suggestion is sound, and well timed. We will come in the back route. I believe we have one more opening, Mettaton; if you are offering to join us you are more than welcome."

"Oh, _I_ _'m_ not going to do anything," Mettaton promised. "This show's all yours, darling, even I know when I'd be upstaged. I'll be outside providing commentary for the viewers. But if you need help, do take my minion along, I'm sure you'll find some use for him."

The monster in a fast-food uniform peered at his boss. "You're… kidding, right? This is way out of my job description."

"Hazard pay starts at triple time." Mettaton splayed out his fingers to examine his nails. "Plus a generous benefits package if you get hurt or dusted. Not to mention, I could 'lose' a certain portion of your permanent record."

The creature called 'Burgie' stared into open space. He pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and opened it, counting the sticks left inside. "… Okay, fine. I can get one room by myself, I think. It'll be something, rescuing the teenagers that would have been my classmates if I hadn't dropped out. To work for you." The last words were said with unconcealed contempt and no small amount of regret.

"Thaaaaat's the spirit!" Mettaton clapped. "And be sure to get any good action shots if you can, okay? It will make for killer ratings!"

Burgie sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, boss."

Five. Asgore had five people to secure twelve classrooms. It was going to be tricky, yes. And unlike his former Captain he could not honestly say he looked forward to fighting. But the ones who threatened the school could at least say they had accomplished their goal: the king was indeed marching to war.

* * *

AN: WARNING: This chapter contains a scene where armed adults invade a school during classes and threaten children with violence. There is no actual violence or character death during this scene.

I imagine some might balk at Asgore going on the offense. After all, he famously invited an avatar of violence and murder to talk things out over a cup of tea. The difference between this Asgore and that one, is Beatrice. She taught him he was being too lenient, that not every problem could be solved by being nice. It is a lesson Asgore has taken to heart.


	20. The Raid at Slightly Bigger School

WARNING: This chapter contains a continuation of the hostage situation introduced in the previous chapter.

* * *

"Our demands are simple!" the PA blared out to the courtyard. "We ask either that Asgore declare war on humanity and lead us to victory, or that he admit he is unable to do so and step down. Monster freedom and safety can only be won with the destruction of humanity! After all, it has been weeks since the barrier fell but we are still living in these caves! What has our King been doing, if he cannot even lead us up to the surface when there is no barrier to stop us? We act in the name of justice, to either force the hand of our indolent king, or rise up in glorious revolution!" The nasally voice continued to orate in this manner. Grillby sighed. It was not as though they did not have a point, but they had obviously taken it too far. So it was left for those with his peculiar skillset (peculiar for a monster, anyway) to settle things. He was with Papyrus and Burgerpants on the upper floor; Burgerpants had been assigned to clear out the grade 7 classroom, Papyrus was handling grades 8 and 9, and Grillby had to do grades 10 and up. Three rooms, probably about six or seven enemies. A tall order. He had better start things off.

Grillby rapped on the door with a single knuckle then took two large steps back. Within a few moments the door opened and a monster peeked out, grinning ear to ear when he saw Grillby. Grillby waved in a non-threatening manner but said nothing. "Hey, come look at this," the monster said to his friend inside. The monsters brandished their weapons with evil smiles on their faces and began advancing on Grillby. "What're you up to, old man? You get lost or somethin'?"

Oh good, they both came out together. That made things much simpler. One might have gone running or called for reinforcements, but two would get cocky due to their superior numbers. As soon as the stepped away from the door frame and into the hall Grillby expanded his magic field and casually tossed tiny discs of fire toward them. The discs attached themselves to the walls, ceiling, and floors around the monsters. His opponents were clearly unused to combat, as they were too distracted by each new stimuli to react to the last one. First their souls appeared (one dark blue and one yellow, Grillby forgot them almost instantly as unimportant), then they stared at the discs as they flashed and beeped, and then it was too late for them to do anything. The discs erupted into pillars of fire which criss-crossed the hallway in a three-dimensional grid pattern, sealing off several avenues of escape and burning them where they stood. There had been safe spots, areas where they could have stood unharmed if they had been paying attention and realized they were under attack. But with Grillby's skill and mastery of combat it was difficult to find those spots, and one hit was all it had taken to decide the fight. The monsters crumpled to the floor, their clothes covered in burn marks and soot. Grillby stepped over their smoking (but still perfectly intact) bodies and peered into the classroom; good, no more terrorists here. He waved to the children; their teacher carefully stood up and marched them out, several of them giving awed looks at Grillby when they saw their tormentors' forms.

No time to congratulate himself. These were older students, they could be trusted to see their own way out. He had to move on to the next room. He walked briskly over and considered whether the same strategy would work again. He peeked inside through the glass window on the door; no, this room had three monsters in it. He could count on two of them investigating a sound outside the room, but the third would stay and might hold a child hostage. On the 11th grade room especially he could not risk that. Very well. The direct approach, then. He made a trail of fire from his feet, along the floor, underneath the door, up the wall, and directly behind one of the terrorists standing guard. The difference between one magical flame and the next was largely academic; it was possible for an elemental to incorporate themself into their own element and reconstitute themself elsewhere, so long as there was magic present in the flame they were moving themself through. Or, to put it more simply, he could fast-travel through his own flames. Grillby sunk into one end of the fiery trail and in less than a second popped out the other end of it, grabbing the back of the monster's head while still in midair and allowing his weight to pull his target down to the floor. As soon as his opponent's face connected with the floor with Grillby in a kneeling position he activated his fire magic, causing a deafening explosion to ring out in the tiny classroom as the soul blinked into visibility and vanished just as quickly. His opponent went slack.

Grillby stood up and calmly assessed the nearer of the two remaining targets. It appeared to be a stone golem of some kind, six foot nine inches tall and comprised of many rocks fitted together in a vaguely humanoid shape. The golem was also not nearly as taken aback by Grillby's maneuver as he planned on; he had barely looked over to it before having to hurriedly step back as a fist the size of his torso cut through the air. Hm, the golem was not extending their aura. It must intend to simply beat him to unconsciousness or death with its fists. Not a bad strategy, considering it had at least half a ton on Grillby. Grillby tapped a foot against the floor to be certain; he was standing on linoleum, so even if the golem were an earth elemental it could not teleport behind him with the same trick he had just used against its friend. That was one worry off his mind.

Not that the golem seemed to need any more advantages. It sneered, "What're ya gonna do, burn rocks to death?" It reared back for another haymaker, confident the fire elemental could do nothing to harm it. Grillby ducked under the swinging fist and grabbed the creature's stomach with both hands. Both Grillby and the golem were engulfed in a white-hot flame that roared like a blowtorch in the tiny classroom. True, rock creatures like this were resistant to heat. However, apply a flame hot enough for long enough and their bodies would melt, the rocks fusing together and rendering them incapable of action. Sure enough, when Grillby doused his flames and stepped back the golem, now glowing red, fell over with a dazed expression on its face.

Grillby did not even have the time to admire his handiwork before his soul, dark blue, appeared on his chest. The magic field told him he was fighting a Bullpen, and he assumed it would swing while his back was turned. So he ducked as he turned around, noting as the crystallized baseball bat flew overhead that he had guessed correctly. Only then did Grillby recognize his final enemy in this room, a horned bull wearing a striped shirt and pants combo topped with a baseball cap. Grillby did not wait to see whether the Bullpen would honor the "my turn, your turn" of a formal magical duel (God knew Grillby never did) and decided to make his move, sending a trail of fire between the Bullpen's legs and diving into the flame.

"Oh no you don't!" the Bullpen said, turning around and readying a swing of his bat for when Grillby reappeared. "Time to hit a pop fly!"

Good, Grillby had been counting on that. He jumped out of the fire at the exact same spot he entered it, only now his enemy was facing away from him. He pinched the Bullpen on the back of the neck and engulfed his entire head in flames. It only took a half second for the monster to fall to the floor, his weapon disintegrating back into magic. Quick. Clean. Efficient. It was not for nothing that when someone went looking for a mercenary to kill the fourth human, they selected Grillby to be the assassin. They simply had not counted on Marijane being so slippery, so agile, and so kind as to help someone who was desperately trying to kill her. Anyone who knew Grillby's reputation did not dare start trouble in his bar; anyone who did not know it only tried once.

"Dad?!"

He whirled toward the source of the word, a lovely green fire elemental in a schoolgirl uniform. His daughter, Fuku. She marched up to him, indignantly asking, "Dad, what are you doing here?"

He clapped his hands together to dust them off before signing in response, _Rescuing you_ , a _nd everyone else at this school as an incidental effect._

Fuku crossed her arms. "And you're busting out your old skills for that? You're not supposed to be doing anything dangerous, Mom's gonna flip when she finds out."

 _I have my ways of handling your mother,_ Grillby replied coolly.

"Ugh, that's what I'm afraid of!" Fuku buried her face in her hands, then opened up the fingers to peek through. "Can you at least wait until my friends aren't looking?"

 _No promises._ _Now, come along. It's time you evacuated. I still have one more room to clean up._ He took the opportunity to straighten his tie. Even in the most trying circumstances a bartender must always appear unflappable. Once that was done he formed his own signature weapon, a thin rapier with a flame no larger than a birthday candle's at the tip. There was still more work to do.

* * *

Papyrus knocked on the door twice, making the frosted window rattle. "Hello! I'm coming in!" he greeted before opening the door. He waltzed in like he was visiting an old friend, not about to wade into a combat zone. This was the 8th grade classroom, and the students here had shed their stripes and were dressed in all manner of styles and colors as they attempted to forge their own identities. They had all retreated to the rear of the classroom along with their teacher, while at the front a single Parsnik eyed Papyrus warily. "Greetings!" he said, waving. "I am the monster ambassador, the Great Papyrus! I was wondering if you had considered-"

The Parsnik glared at him and he felt her magic field wash over him. He looked down at the orange soul on his chest. Oh dear, this was not off to a very promising start. Snake bullets slithered along the ground; one, two, three waves. Papyrus was able to nimbly sidestep most of them, hopping from one foot to another. "Please, miss, calm down! I'm sure if we just talk about this-!" Snakes flew through the air, mouths open to sink their fangs into Papyrus' bones. He dodged left, he dodged right, his skull flew off his neck and a foot into the air to avoid a snake heading directly for his nose, then he reached up to grab his skull and set it back on top of his spine.

It was this last maneuver that finally prompted his opponent to talk back. "Hey, skeletons can't do that!" she hissed indignantly, drawing out her "s"es for a tenth of a second (long enough to be notable but not enough to be worth transliterating).

Papyrus cleared his throat. "Clearly, you have never met a skeleton as multitalented as I, the Great Papyrus!"

She fired more snake bullets as she bounced closer, the snakes on her head hissing while preparing to attack. Papyrus materialized a femur in each hand and batted away the bullets. The snake bullets burst with an audible "pip" as their hissing ceased, and even though he knew bullets were not alive he could not help but feel guilty over it. Then she was directly in his face, her snakes biting one at a time. He used a delicate hand to politely but firmly ease them away from his body, sometimes avoiding a bite by mere inches. Two snakes shot out at once and grabbed the tip of his crystallized bones in their mouths, then yanked hard. Papyrus only barely kept hold of his weapons. He had to dig in his heels and arch his back to keep from being pulled off his feet. Despite this he notably did not expand his magic field over her in retaliation. "Calm yourself!" he cried instead. "Surely you must realize this has all gotten way out of… hand?!" At his last word the snakes lost their grip; both Papyrus and the Parsnik hurtled backwards and thudded against the wall. The shock made both the remaining snake bullets and Papyrus' bone swords disappear, though Papyrus noted with dismay his soul was still visible. The Parsnik still had him in her magic field, so she must still have intended to fight.

The Parsnik rebalanced herself and fixed her gaze on the students, a brilliant and terrible idea popping into her head. "Not bad. But are you going to keep dodging, even if I'm not aiming at _you_ , but at-"

"Are you a monster that could finish that sentence?" Papyrus interrupted, crestfallen. "Do you really want to be the kind of person that could do what you're thinking?"

The Parsnik looked from Papyrus, then back to the children. They were shrinking away from her, fear plain on their faces. Some of them stared at her with soggy eyes, others with grim frowns, others with despair. She swallowed, her victorious grin shuddering and dying. "… No." The orange heart vanished from Papyrus' chest as the monster spared him. She hung her head low. "I… I don't know how things got this way. I don't know why I wanted this. I…"

"There, there," Papyrus said, walking up and putting an arm around her. "The important thing is, you were able to stop being a goon before doing something awful. As long as we keep the ability to recognize and correct our mistakes, there's nothing to stop us from reaching our full potential no matter how many missteps we make. The path to greatness is long and arduous, but the first step on it is getting off the bad path, which you have done!"

"I'm sorry," the Parsnik sniffled. "I'm so sorry…" Papyrus continued hugging her and patting her head.

He did not hear the monster guard from next door creeping in, summoned by the noise of the fight. He did not see it creeping up on him, did not see it raise its knife in glee-

Papyrus did not see a massive skull of an unidentifiable beast materialize in the air just behind his head, staring at the approaching monster with hate-filled eyes and a hungry maw. The children in the room were so scared they could not even gasp or scream, frozen solid from fear. The monster backed away and dropped its knife, holding up its hands in surrender. The knife bounced against the ground once before splitting into microscopic pieces on the second bounce.

The moment Papyrus turned toward the source of the sound the giant skull disappeared into nothingness. "Oh! Where did you come from?" Papyrus said. "Are you also here to surrender peacefully?"

The monster chuckled nervously. "Uh, y-yeah. When you take a step back, it all seems… pretty dumb. I don't want any trouble, I ain't fighting anymore. So, uh…"

Papyrus pulled him in with his free arm. "So come on and join the hug of clemency!" The monster nodded and cautiously stepped into the skeleton's embrace.

Papyrus looked at the skid marks, deep furrows, and split tiles in the floor where snakes slithered past or bones erupted from the floor, the scared faces of the children, still terrified even as the teacher calmly led them out the door and to safety. He had acted supremely well as a member of the Royal Guard. He had performed his role admirably and brought a halt to the occupation of the school without a single life being lost. Truly, this was what he had always dreamed of.

So… why wasn't he happy about it?

* * *

The first grade classroom was very quiet. After the bigmouths left there were only two terrorists left behind. The kids looked like they were ready to burst into tears at any moment but the teacher kept them calm and assured them with a certainty she did not feel that everything would be okay. Even though there were strange noises coming from upstairs, the two invaders did not seem perturbed. Maybe the ones on the upper floors needed to worry about the students getting cocky and deciding to play hero, but what were a bunch of pipsqueaks going to do?

It was at that moment the door creaked open ominously, revealing the triumphant silhouette of Former Captain Undyne. She was dressed in casual clothing but was no less menacing for it, especially given the crystallized spear she held in one hand and rested against her shoulder. "Hiya!" she said with a shark-toothed grin. "You're all in big trouble now!"

It took them only a moment to realize who had appeared and how very correct she was. They all stood completely motionless to not give her any reason to fight. One of them licked their lips and started, "Uh-"

"They're resisting arrest!" Undyne shouted, diving into the room with her spear at the ready. She charged directly into one of them and flattened him against the wall. The other terrorists threw up their hands and attempted to flee, but Undyne was too fast; she smashed heads into the wall, delivered spin kicks to midsections, and cleanly dispatched each of her opponents before they could do anything. In the end none of them even dared to raise a hand against her; disappointing to be sure.

The last conscious one pounded one fist against the ground as Undyne tried to touch his wrist to the back of his head. "Puh-police brutality!"

"Nah," Undyne shrugged. "I'm not police anymore, and besides if I got brutal with you punks there'd be nothing left!" She slammed his head into the floor to knock him unconscious. "That's it? C'mon guys, I'm really worked up right now! You've gotta fight back at least a little!" Ah well, maybe she'd have better luck next door. She noticed that all the first graders were staring at her, some in horror, others in worship. She gave them a thumbs-up and said, "Uh, stay in school kids! But, uh, maybe not this school, right at this second. I need you all out of the way so I can get the other kids out. Teach, you got that covered?" The teacher frantically agreed and rounded up her students to lead them outside and to safety.

Undyne, however, went the opposite way. She scraped her spear along the floor as she went, singing in a low voice, "One, two, Undyne's coming for you. Three, four, gonna make you sore. Five, six, she'll get her kicks. Seven, eight, now it's too late. Nine, ten-"

She kicked the door of the second grade classroom, knocking it off its hinges and sending it sailing into the room and through the window on the other side. The kids looked at her wide-eyed, the terrorists' faced paled. While every eye was on her she recited, "- Here's the Captain!"

She decided to give the monsters a chance to organize this time; they lined up in front of her, the left and middle ones with swords and the one on the right wielding a staff. She expanded her field over all three of them to let them know what was coming and giving them one last chance to surrender. Lucky her, it looked like they were not going to take it. "O-okay!" the one with a staff said. "I have a plan. Ready? On the count of three… one, two, three, _GET HER!"_

As soon as it gave that order a spear erupted from the ground under its feet and caught it by the back of its pants, giving it a wedgie as it dangled three feet in the air. The other two rushed forward, yet unaware their leader was not following them. Undyne's yellow soul appeared on her chest as they finally closed ranks. She ducked under their horizontal swings and spun her spear around before thrusting up to nail the monster on the right (some kind of bird) in the beak with the butt end. The bird dropped its weapon to hold its beak, shouting a string of muffled curses into its wings. She stuck the point of the spear into the ground and used it to launch herself into the air, flipping to kick the third monster in the jaw. As soon as her feet touched the ceiling she activated her green magic for a brief moment, crouching to gather up power in her legs before canceling the magic to launch herself at the staff-user still suspended on her spear. Her forearm connected with its neck, shattering the spear and knocking the monster unconscious with a vicious clothesline. She rose to her feet and turned to the bird, who was still holding onto its beak. With a sigh she summoned another spear and bonked him on the head to end the battle.

"That all of 'em?" she asked, her spears dissipating. "Everyone okay?"

A reindeer kid (fawn? She could never remember all the different words) nodded. "Y-yes," they said. "Thanks for saving us, Ms. Undyne. Um, that was… really brave of you,"

"It don't take much bravery to do this when you've never been scared of anything," Undyne said with a grin. One of the rugrats pulled on her shirt. She looked down to see a purple dinosaur-like monster with most of her hair covering her eyes. "You got somethin' to say?"

The tiny purple monster held a closed fist out to her. "That was cool," she said with a smile.

Undyne grinned back and gave the child a fistbump. "Hell yeah it was! Now clear on out of here, there's lots more for me to do!" She jumped into and through the wall, her entry into the next classroom heralded by a cloud of dust. " _Oh yeah!_ " she screamed.

"Oh no!" someone in the next room cried in despair.

Undyne _really_ loved her job.

* * *

The conspirator formerly known as Bedsheet paced the room. The bedsheet had been good to conceal his identity, but now that they were acting publicly there was no more need for that. Besides, it would be hard to wield his massive two-handed axe while he was covered head to toe in a bedsheet. He was a large brute of a man; standing at over seven feet tall he would dwarf nearly any monster but Asgore. He was covered in thick reddish-orange hair from head to toe, the only identifiable features being his large eyes and a pair of horns sticking out from his top. He appeared to be a single solid mass, with no discernible neck or even a head; if he closed his eyes he would appear to be a torso with large arms and stubby legs. With not even thirty people to handle 12 classrooms, plus the group managing the PA, they were stretched thin. Even at two people to a room it was tough to guard everywhere. That's where people like he came in. He was put here alone because he did not need anyone backing him up. He considered himself the strongest and most capable combatant by far, and anyone who said differently could talk to his axe.

Not that these brats were willing to press their luck. Even the largest of them were barely half his size, all of them huddled against the wall while quietly supporting each other. Ugh, did they have to be so overdramatic? The way they looked at him with fear and helplessness was starting make his eyes water.

No, it was not the sentiment. He noticed his eyes were starting to itch and a strange smell was filling his nostrils. A gray haze filled the air and his throat burned. He waved the smoke away with one hand and coughed. Did one of the idiots downstairs light a fire or something?

"Heya buddy, got a light?"

He whirled toward the source of the voice. There was a person in the corner who didn't belong here! He threw several axe-shaped bullets before he had a chance to identify who it was. For a moment he was terrified he might have just killed one of his co-conspirators. Instead the shape blew apart into nothingness as soon as one of his bullets grazed it. Or had it simply moved too fast for him to see?

"Ya missed!"

Behind him again?! He threw several more bullets, now that he was sure it was not one of his fellows. Again the figure vanished as soon as his bullets touched it, and this time he definitely noticed no soul appeared when his magic field touched the 'person'. What the hell?! Someone was playing some kind of trick on him!

He snarled, "None of you move!" to the kids and looked left, then right. It couldn't be that the kids were messing with him, whatever kind of magic this was would be far too advanced for seventh graders. He fingered his axe in anticipation. Next time. Next time this thing appeared, he would hit it directly with his axe. He would actually feel it connect, and then he would know for sure whether it was a trick of his vision or an actual monster.

Sure enough he saw something pop into existence at the corner of his peripheral vision. He swung his axe with a snarl, feeling no resistance as his blade cleaved into the monster's face. However, as soon as it did so the monster broke apart into whiffs of smoke and faded back into the rest of the smoke. Okay. Okay. So whatever kept popping up was not a monster. It was… some kind of illusion? Could magic do that? As he considered this another copy appeared in the corner. This time he approached carefully, taking the time to study the image intently.

It was a model of a cat-like monster with dead eyes and a plastic grin. He was wearing an MTT Emporium outfit and a paper hat, staring off into space like nothing in his life mattered anymore. Frowning, Bedsheet poked it in the eye with his finger. For a brief moment he felt solid strands of cyan magic before the construct collapsed into wisps of smoke and faded into the surrounding haze. He had to marvel at it; he had never seen magic like this before, and he had to admit it was pretty cool. Normally something made with cyan magic would not be detailed enough to fool even the most cursory observer into thinking it was real, but this had kept him going for a while.

Although… if this was magic, where was the monster using it?

He turned away from the corner expecting to see someone standing there ready to get the drop on him. Instead he found no one. He scratched the top of his body and looked around. Still no one. He found this odd, perhaps even alarming, but could not think why he should be concerned if no one else was in the room. If he was all alone that was a good thing, right? It meant he was not getting attacked. So he could continue looking after the children in-

"Hey…" Now that he noticed, all the children were gone. His brows furrowed in rage. " _HEY!_ "

* * *

Burgerpants quietly led the children out of the classroom and to the stairwell, where they would be only a few steps away from the back entrance of the school and safety. "How'd you do that magic, mister?" one kid asked him.

Mister? Man, he was only older than these kids by five years. Did working for Mettaton age him that badly? "It's a combination of cyan, red, and gray magic," he explained as he stuck his very last cigarette in his mouth but did not light it yet. "I put together a loose frame with cyan magic, use red to attract the smoke onto it to give it definition and depth, then use gray magic to plaster an image over the top of it. The final result is quite detailed, and in the midst of the smoke it looks almost real." Gray magic was a type of magic that let the user create simple images or words and display them in the air or on a flat surface; the images were completely harmless and usually easy to tell apart from the real thing.

"Woah!" one of the kids said. "You're amazing! That spell is so cool!"

"Hardly," Burgie sniffed. "It's a total failure, almost completely worthless." He had developed this spell so he could dive under the counter during slow days and give his feet a rest without getting in trouble. What are you talking about boss, I was manning the front register, didn't you see me standing there? But the image did not look like a real person at all; it was too transparent, the color too washed out, and of course he was not anywhere near skilled enough at cyan magic to make a person-sized construct that could move. So it stood rock-still with a dumb smile on its face, staring straight ahead with eyes not quite as empty as the real Burgerpants'. It only worked this time because the one guy on guard was so high-strung he kept destroying the construct before getting a close look at it; if he had been able to calm himself down long enough to pay attention to what he was aiming at he would have figured it out immediately. As it was Burgie could only hope he had gotten enough of a head start to escape the building before-

" _YOU!_ "

Burgerpants turned to see an enraged monster with orange hair from head to toe and a giant axe charging down the hall toward him at full speed. "Ah crap!" he shouted, the cigarette falling from his mouth. "Run, I'll hold him off!" Wait, he was gonna _what?!_ He only repeated the words a hero was supposed to say in a moment like this, before thinking through what those words actually meant. But they had already been said, and his feet refused to move in any case. The other teens not much younger than him ran past and behind him to the stairwell as the behemoth thundered closer.

Nothing for it. Burgerpants expanded his magic field and his opponent's soul appeared. An outside observer would only see a white heart with the tip pointing up; only the two of them would see the orange the soul actually was. The large monster grimaced and returned the favor, Burgie's purple soul appearing on his own chest. Okay. Okay, he was really doing this. The last of the kids disappeared down the stairwell, so at least he did not have to worry about one of them getting caught in the crossfire. Now if only he could join them…

No time for that! He leaned backward with a grimace as the monster swung it's axe horizontally through the air where his head had been just a second ago. The monster recovered and tried to bring the axe down. Burgerpants backpedaled as quickly as he could, staying just hairs away from being bisected. The axe bit into the floor, leaving a gash half as wide as Burgerpants' arm. Worse, the monster had no trouble pulling it out and readying another swing. Okay, time to counter-attack. He created a cigarette bullet above the monster; it shook out flecks of ash which slowly settled on the hair of the monster. If Burgerpants squinted and concentrated very hard, he could almost see the effect his bullets had on his target's HP.

The hairy monster scoffed. "… Wazzat suppose to hurt?"

He did not actually expect that to win the fight for him, but he was really hoping it would have done _something_. What else did he have? He was no warrior, he had maybe a couple bullet patterns memorized but he was way out of practice. Was there anything he could do? Well, there was one other 'attack', but… no, no! He absolutely could not do _that_! Even if by some miracle it actually worked, he would never be able to look himself in the mirror again. He gulped as the axe drew his gaze to it. The thought occurred to him that if he did not do it he also would be unable to look in the mirror again, because he would be dead.

The giant grinned. "My turn." He opened his mouth, a gaping black void in the midst of the red hair, and coughed up a tiny ball of fluff. Oh, that was gross. Still, it was only one bullet not even the size of his thumb, it would be simple enough to-

As soon as he thought that the ball began rapidly growing in size. After traveling one foot it was already the size of a baseball; after two it was the size of a basketball. Burgerpants dashed to one side of the fluffball; it was growing too fast, he would never squeeze into the gap between it and the wall before it closed off entire. He dashed to the other side: no good there either! The floor? No! There was no way to dodge this thing! Burgerpants crossed his forearms over his face to shield himself from the blow.

He needn't have bothered; he would have been clobbered regardless. Even though it looked to be made of fluff the bullet struck like a car, knocking him off his feet. He spun nearly 270 degrees to land on his face. His arms were numb, his chest was sore, and his whole body felt like he had just handled an entire dinner rush by himself.

His soul disappeared, and the hairy monster relaxed his stance. "It ain't your fault," the monster said, setting his axe on his shoulder. "You ain't never been in a fight before, right? Not a real one anyway. See, that bullet's harder to dodge the further away you are. So to avoid it you'd have to come closer… within range of my axe." It grinned, layers of hair pulling apart to reveal a set of large white teeth. "So you were gettin' clobbered no matter what. You got some real guts, kid, but you're just not in my league."

Burgerpants pushed himself off the floor, managing to get back on his hands and knees before he coughed dust. This guy wasn't playing around. Another hit and he would be done for. And with his injury he doubted whether he could avoid another round of attacks. What was he even doing? This guy was right, he did not belong fighting.

"Well," the hairy monster said with a shrug. "You didn't die, so, you know, points for that I guess. Look, I'm gonna go chase after those kids. Don't feel bad, it ain't your fault. No one's gonna blame you."

Yeah. He should just… let him go. Even if he got back up, even if he pulled off his special attack, it probably would not even slow this guy down. He would just die for nothing. No one really expected him to be able to do this, they would understand that he failed. No one would blame him. No one.

"Yes… they will." Burgerpants shakily got to his feet. "My boss… will totally blame me for this." It did not matter that he was way out of his league, performing tasks way outside his job description, for way too little money. Grillby, Asgore, Undyne, even Papyrus were handling multiple rooms by themselves. If he let the whole operation fail because he could not do even one… he did not want to even think about the mixtape Mettaton would make about it. He would never live it down as long as he lived.

The hairy monster sighed and hefted his axe as Burgerpant's soul reappeared. "Hope you told somebody where you want your dust spread," he said as he began to run at Burgerpants. The fast food worker mentally ran through the pattern of his 'special attack'. He had to time this perfectly… too early and it would be easy to dodge, too late and he would get chopped in half before he finished the attack. He would only get one chance at this. The monster thundered closer, raising its axe for a sideways swipe that would separate Burgie's head from his shoulders. Steady now. Steady… _now!_

A giant disc like a pedestal rose out of the ground directly in front of the charging monster, catching his toe in mid-stride. He tripped, managing to hold onto his axe but flailing as he fell face-first onto the dais. It was perfectly sized for the monster, just as planned. Burgerpants grinned maniacally; quickly, before he could get up, he had to put everything he had into this attack! "Two patties!" he intoned. Two more disc-like bullets appeared in the air just above the hairy monster and slammed down, crushing him between the bun below and the faux-meat above. Quickly, before he could escape, Burgie piled on condiments with both hands to complete the attack. Special sauce, lettuce, cheese-like product, pickes, onions-

"- on a sequin-topped bun!"

Lo, a bun with sequins glued onto it descended from the ceiling and was placed atop the meal. As soon as it was completed it exploded, knocking Burgerpants on his butt and obscuring the hallway in a cloud of smoke. He felt thin and empty, and it took effort to keep from slumping backwards and splaying out his limbs. That was it. No more big attacks from him. If this did not work he was done. He squinted to try and see through the smoke, holding his breath.

As the smoke cleared he could see a silhouette of the large creature standing up. He grit his teeth and waited for the end… but it never came. The hairy monster had stood up, but made no other move. He swayed back and forth on his feet, keeping a lazy grip on his axe, but his eyes were glazed over and he was looking at nothing in particular. Burgerpants could only laugh and generate a single bullet around the same size as a finger but more rectangular. "You want… fries with that?" he asked and tossed the bullet. The bullet lazily floated through the air and struck the monster in the forehead. The monster teetered backward and fell, arms out to the side, the axe vanishing as it hit the floor.

Burgie let his shoulders droop and a long, ragged sigh out of his throat. _Now_ he was done. Triple time wasn't worth _this._ He looked around for his last cigarette; it was on the floor, just within arms reach, partially crushed. Screw it, he was that desperate. He grabbed it and stuffed it in his mouth. He snapped his fingers to summon a single flame of fire magic, but was so exhausted even managing that was tricky. Dammit, he really needed this right now!

A flame appeared in front of his face. He blinked at it and realized it was connected to a larger flame, or rather an entire arm, no, an entire body made of flames. Grillby nodded once. "… Good job," the flame elemental said in a throaty, raspy voice.

"Thanks," Burgerpants repleid, lighting his cigarette on the flame and taking a long drag. "What are you doing here? Don't you have your own places to look after?" Grillby drew a hand across his forehead, then dusted off his hands. "What, done already? And you came to check on me?" He should not have been offended, it was clear looking at the infiltration team which one of them would run into the biggest problems. "… How long were you watching?" Grillby's flame flickered in something like a laugh. He extended a single finger on both his hands and waved them back and forth like a ticking metronome. "Aaaaagh!" Burgerpants cried. "Don't tell anyone, especially not my boss! I'd never hear the end of it!" Grillby pinched his fingers together and drew them across where his mouth would be. His flames sputtered again. "Oh, I get it. Because you're selectively mute, right? Reeeeaaaal funny."

* * *

Asgore wasted no time; as soon as he heard noises from up the hall he knew the rest of the team was already making their moves. He had to clear three rooms and find the ringleaders, so he could not afford to fall behind. In the first room he stepped into there were only two monsters who did not belong. Both of them were too stunned to speak, or move, or attack. Two swings of his trident cut them to the ground with only single-digit HP remaining. Perhaps in ordinary circumstances he would have allowed them to make the first move, but he was beyond pleasantries. The chance to surrender had been when he had to duck his head so his horns would not clip the top of the doorframe. There was not a single monster in the underground who would fail to recognize who he was, and no monster willing to invade a school would fail to realize what openly carrying a crystallized weapon meant. They must have known what was about to happen to them. Asgore considered himself fortunate to rescue the fourth-graders without a battle, and would not have minded the anticlimax of the other two rooms he was responsible for proceeding in the same fashion.

Alas, it was not to be. The next room also had two monsters, but rather than 'freeze' as a fear response these two chose 'fight'. One of the monsters had a bandana around his forehead and screamed a kiai, throwing dozens of fist-shaped bullets at the king in a mad panic. Despite their creator's fear there was no will to hurt or kill in them; they were not even worth dodging. Asgore put his spear aside and held out a paw to lazily catch the bullets while he closed the distance. Within three great strides he had already reached the bandana-clad monster as it stared in horror at how little effect its bullets were having. Asgore thrust his palm forward to connect with the monster's chest, sending it toppling into the wall.

Its partner, a dark purple lizard with webbed feet and a tall fin on its head like a mohawk, grit its teeth and created its own bullets, stars in a broad spread over its head. There must have been thirty or so, and they flew at Asgore one at a time in rapid fire. Asgore surmised the intent was to keep the opponent guessing which direction the next attack would come from, and to have the next bullet follow the last so closely behind that the target was kept off balance. Not bad, but any bullet pattern which revolved around aiming directly at the target was susceptible to slow movements to study the pattern followed by a dash once an opening was found. Asgore sidled just out of the way of a stream of bullets. He kept inching to the side, each bullet coming within a hair of his armor but none touching it. Finally he saw his chance; a bullet that started close to him flew past, and the next one to fire would be starting from far away. This would cause the greatest possible gap in the firing pattern. He moved like a blur, stepping into a space in the bullets that would have seemed impossible for someone as large as Asgore to exploit had he not been looking specifically for it. The last few stars were unable to track his movement and bounced harmlessly off the floor.

"… How?" the monster asked, its entire body trembling. It did not see Asgore's movement, but because it could not see Asgore now it knew he was right behind it and there was nothing it could do to escape or counter. "How can you move like that?"

"Be where the bullets aren't, and move to where they won't be," Asgore intoned. "Everything else is just experience." His trident pierced the monster through, and when he withdrew it slumped to the ground unconscious. Asgore was a very careful hand when it came to fighting; he could not craft a bullet which did absolutely no damage like Papyrus did, but he had enough experience to stop exactly short of the force needed to kill. Even something which appeared to be a fatal wound, which would have been a fatal wound to a human, was survivable for a monster as long as whoever delivered it was careful about their intentions. The terrorists defeated, the teacher calmly led their students out. Two rooms down, one to go.

The third and final room also had two terrorists, a large red humanoid with giant arms and tiny legs, and a smaller mouse-like monster wearing denim suspenders over a pink shirt. The larger monster charged at Asgore, but seemed to backpedal when his brain caught up to who he was charging at. Asgore aided him in stopping by hurling a single fireball in his direction. The red monster barreled into the fireball face-first and flipped backwards, landing on his back like he slipped on a banana peel. Asgore walked past the fallen monster and toward the mouse with determined footsteps.

"S-so!" The mouse puffed out its chest with obviously feigned confidence. "King Asgore in the flesh, or the dust, uh, so to speak." Asgore did not repy; he strode up to the mouse as it nervousy wrung its hands. "We, uh, would like to talk to you about-"

Asgore's free hand shot out and grabbed the mouse by the front of its shirt. Asgore lifted it up to stare directly into its eyes. "Whatever you would like to talk about does not matter," Asgore said, voice straining to keep himself under control. "You will instead talk about what possessed you to do this."

The mouse quailed, "Please! I, we, we just wanted to get your attention!"

His grip tightened, grinding pieces of the shirt to dust that slipped between his fingers. "You succeeded. Now, where is your leader? Who decided this was a good idea?"

"I-i-i-it was a group effort! But, uh, the guy who really pushed for it is in the PA room, down the hall. He's the one making that address. Please don't kill me, Mr. Dreemurr."

"That was never part of the plan. After all, we are only on the first floor." He heaved the monster out the window, spraying shards of glass in every direction. The monster bounced and skidded to a halt in the courtyard as members of the city guard approached to apprehend him. Asgore used his trident to clear up the glass, allowing the students to clamber out the window and to safety. So, the PA room. Good to know.

It must have been a traumatic sight for the people in the PA room. One moment they were calmly delivering their address to the rest of monsterkind, ignoring the noises and rumblings coming from the other rooms of the building, and then in the blink of an eye the door was gone. A massive shape burst into the room, a beast unlike any they would have seen before. The golden mane, the armor, even the crown on its head looked familiar, but the kindly smile and gentle eyes commonly associated with King Asgore were nowhere to be found. In their place was a demonic visage; the mouth opened in a bestial roar, revealing razor-tipped fangs and a fire deep in the throat. The eyes had turned pure white and glowed with malice. In its hands the creature held a beautiful but terrible red trident, crackling with energy. Before the sound from the door faded the creature lifted up its trident over its head and slammed it down, leaving a smoking gash where it scraped along the ceiling. The souls of the terrorists appeared, but they were so stunned by the appearance of the creature they could not move. The trident struck like a hammer and cracked the tiles with the force of the blow. Visible shockwaves exploded outward from the point of impact and collided with the terrorists, knocking them off their feet and into the air to slam them into the walls of the teacher's lounge. One hit the windows hard enough to send spiderweb cracks through the glass, but it somehow held together. The others barreled over desks, thudded into walls, and were otherwise sent sprawling helplessly around the room.

The terrorists slumped to the floor, unconscious. The creature remained hunched over, hands still gripping the trident, head down so his hair covered his face. When he lifted his head up he was jolly old King Asgore Dreemurr again, looking a bit sheepish. "Goodness," he gulped. "It's been a while, I guess I didn't know my own strength. Is that all of you?" He looked around, seeing a single bat-like creature with a rubber human mask stretched over its head, cowering underneath the table with the microphone. Hmmm, how would Beatrice handle this…? He reached over and turned the microphone off, then said in a jolly tone, "Oh, there was one of you left." He pointed his trident at the bat monster and offered, "Would you care to spar?"

"No, _noooo!_ " the bat cried, peeling off his human mask. "I'm sorry, we're all so sorry! Please, we don't want to fight anymore!"

"But you were so energetic a few moments ago? Come now, what of your justice? What of your glorious revolution? Isn't your life a small price to pay for your lofty ideals?" That was when he finally recognized who was in front of him. "Flappy? What are you doing here, getting mixed up in all this?"

Flappy swallowed. "You… you remember me?"

"Of course I remember you, you flunked out of the test to work in the CORE so you took a job as a deliveryperson for a sandwich shop while you pondered your next move. How did that garage band work out, by the way? Your music was a bit loud for my taste but there was certainly a lot of passion behind it!"

The bat seemed heartened by this. "Yes, yes! Well, things have been going… well, not so great. We haven't gotten any gigs, at least not paid ones… but, we're still trying, still living the dream! Heh heh… so, can you let us go? We got a little fired up, but we didn't mean any harm, really we didn't!"

Asgore sighed and stroked his beard, his trident dissipating into wisps of magic. "Well, Flappy, if you've gone this far there's not much I can do. The Kingdom of Monsters falls within the United States, so their authority supersedes mine. There's never been a crime like this before in the Underground; I'm pretty sure I never made taking over a school and threatening the students illegal simply because it never occurred to me someone would actually do it. But the US has very specific laws against it, and the crimes are so serious they would never allow us to simply handle it ourselves."

"H-human justice?!" Flappy grabbed onto Asgore's cape. "You can't! If you leave us at the mercy of the humans, we'll die, all of us, we'll die!"

"I am well aware, but I am sorry. As soon as the surface world hears of this I will have to turn all of you over." Flappy collapsed to his knees and sobbed. Asgore could actually see Flappy's HP tumbling. Maybe he went too far? He did not want the poor fellow to Fall Down on him right then and there. "Well, I suppose there may be something I can do. Downplay the seriousness of the crime, call it a demonstration that got a bit rowdy, put you all on community service. Handle it internally, one might say." Flappy looked up at him with hopeful eyes; Asgore returned with a glower. "But I will need something in exchange. You did not all get together randomly to decide this. Someone gathered you and put you up to it. I want to know everything about this group of yours, all your leaders, everything."

"Of course!" the bat nodded so fast Asgore thought his head might fly off. "Absolutely, yes! We'll do anything you ask, oh great and merciful King Asgore!"

Asgore smiled. "Excellent! I knew you would be most cooperative." Maybe he could get that tea after all. "Oh, and I must make an address, let everyone know the situation has been handled. Can you turn that microphone back on for me? Thank you."

* * *

The king gave an address about the hostage situation at Slightly Bigger School after handling it personally. All of the children had been rescued unharmed; some of the faculty were wounded and others were in critical but stable condition. As for the perpetrators, they had all been apprehended and would fully cooperate with an investigation.

The monster formerly known as Black Cloak sighed. Did they really do the right thing? Looking back it was hard to see any other path they could have taken. At the very least nothing could be traced back to them. They were very careful to hide their identity from all their recruits. But the name and the visage would become known to the city guard. They would be on the lookout for anyone in the fabled black cloak. For everyone else it would become the symbol of the attack on Slightly Bigger School, never mind that they argued vociferously against the attack in the first place. No one would make common cause with anyone connected with so heinous a crime. Even if they were alive and unpunished, their rebellion was finished.

They clicked their fingers together and created a tiny flame, dumping it into the metal trash bin. The black cloak ignited, sending wisps of smoke outside the window. Goodbye to rebellion. Goodbye to revolution. Let Asgore jump at shadows for the rest of his days, but today the Black Cloak was done. Perhaps they would simply age out or let themselves Fall Down. Perhaps they would try to start again at a later time with a new scheme. But more than likely they would have to simply learn to accept peace with the humans.

They watched the cloak burn in the trash can, as if doing so granted them solace. And perhaps it did.

* * *

The city guard had locked down the area. All the perpetrators were in custody. Not a single life was lost. All in all, it could not have gone down any better. Parents who had run to the school in terror hugged their children now that the danger was over. The city guard led the terrorists off to be questioned in detail. Grillby slipped into the crowd and vanished before he could be connected with the incident, while Burgerpants had several monster reporters in his face asking him questions while he gave shaky answers to downplay his involvement. Papyrus refused all questions and went to be by himself, sitting on a bench away from the throng while he watched Slightly Bigger School.

"Papyrus!" He lifted his head slightly to see Undyne, waving exuberantly. She had an ear-to-ear grin and a slight patina of sweat on her arms and forehead. It was not until she jogged closer that he realized wait, no, that was not sweat. "Here you are! I figured you'd be in the middle of everyone, talking about how badass you were! Hey, get that look off your face, I'm fine. Clowning on bozos is what I do best. More importantly, you! You did a really great job in there! Okay, I'm a little concerned that you didn't actually beat them up, but hey! A win's a win."

"Thank you, Undyne," he said wearily, his voice carrying none of his usual _joie de vivre_.

"In fact!" she continued. "I'm gonna have a talk with Asgore, see what I can do about reinstating the Royal Guard. We're gonna have to get serious from here on out if turns out we haven't caught the last of these guys. There might be more waiting in the wings. And if Asgore agrees, I want you to be my second-in-command! You can keep the Ambassador thing as a side gig, or maybe we'll go halfsies, we can work something out if you think you can handle both jobs at once. And I'm sure you can! Whaddaya say?"

"It's what I've always wanted." He squeezed his eyes shut. "What I… believed I always wanted. But in that classroom I did not feel like much of a hero. It was good that she backed down, but I don't know what I would have done if she had not. And even now, I don't feel like I did a good job. I'm not happy I got to do it. I am just… very glad it is all over. And when I think of actually being in the Royal Guard, and having to do that every day…"

Undyne blinked. "Pa… pyrus?"

"I am sorry," he said, mustering up his courage. "But I must decline. While I would enjoy the prestige and the respect, I don't want to hurt anyone. I am… unsuited for the Guard, mentally. I can do a lot more good, both for humans and for monsters, if I remain the Ambassador. This is what you were afraid of, isn't it, when you refused to let me join the Royal Guard? That I wouldn't enjoy doing the work of a real guardsman?"

Undyne shook her head. "No, Papyrus. If I'm being honest… I didn't want you to join the guard because I'm selfish. As far as I saw things you would have had two choices: either kill, or be killed. I'm still not sure which one I was more afraid of. But whichever one happened, it would have been my fault for putting you in that spot in the first place. I didn't respect your decisions so I tried to make them for you. I'm sorry I didn't come clean with you sooner."

"It's, it's alright," Papyrus said in a daze. "You were only looking out for me. It's been a trying time for all of us. It's good that it is all over with now." He shook his head and frowned. "So, I cannot afford to wait around any more. This has all been a distraction! Now, my real work begins!" Papyrus leapt to his feet and marched off, pumping his arms in a hearty power-walk.

"Hey, wait!" Undyne shouted after him. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"I have to get my brother!" Papyrus said over his shoulder. And, he thought to himself quietly, there was a certain creature who had a _lot_ of explaining to do.

* * *

AN: Burgerpants' spell can be likened to a CG model; cyan magic makes the wireframe model, red magic attracts smoke to make the triangles, then gray magic provides the textures. The result really is quite lifelike!

This chapter is a little later than I would have liked it to be; the next is probably also going to be late. Earlier this week my landlord gave me 30 days to vacate my current apartment, and while my wife and I were planning to move out later this year we were not prepared to move out on such short notice. So, looking for a new place, packing up our stuff, and working overtime to afford the security deposit is unfortunately going to take priority. I'll be back once this crisis has passed. Thank you all so much for your patience and support!


	21. The Last Classmate

Oswald Rye's eyes fluttered open. A hospital ceiling should not ever get familiar, he groused internally. Despite the rest his entire body felt weak and brittle, the result of being a battlefield for the war between the sickness growing inside him and the poison the doctors pumped him full of. He coughed only once, the force wracking his tiny body and shaking the tube spraying oxygen up his nose. He was already sick of it; everyone knew how this was going to end. So why couldn't they hurry it up and get this over with?

His eyes traced over the colorful large card tacked to the corkboard, rainbow lettering encouraging him to "Get Well Soon!" All around it were signatures from all the other kids in his grade 2 class, accompanied by various messages of insincere concern. How stupid… he had been gone for so long they had probably given away his seat by now, or if it was still empty no one asked anymore when he would be coming back. If they noticed to begin with; he was not popular before his illness and it was hard to believe that would change with him gone. Whether he was there or not did not really matter.

He grabbed the tablet by the side of the bed and brought it out of sleep mode. At this time of day nothing would be on television but soap operas and daytime news. Nothing at all interesting for an eight year old cancer kid. He probably could have ordered a movie or something but it seemed like too much effort. There were things he needed to catch up on, anyway. He was not able to watch live because Wednesday was a Bad Day, and yesterday he had been stupid and left his tablet unplugged. But now he finally had a fully charged tablet, he was feeling up to watching things, and nothing better to do and nobody else vying for his time. He made a few taps on the screen to bring up his subscriptions, smiling when his guess proved correct; some kind person had recorded the whole stream. He started it up and settled against his pillow, tablet held sideways and propped up on his chest. A slightly tinny-sounding voice came out of the screen: "What's goin' on people, this is Marty for Mad Martian Media, streaming live over your intertubes. And man oh man, we have a very special guest in the studio today, one might even call him… the greatest guest. Please welcome back to the stream, The Great! Papyrus!"

He smiled as Papyrus experienced audio difficulties but continued being his exuberant and cheerful self. He could already tell this would be worth the wait.

* * *

Toriel heard a knock at the door. She was in the kitchen, her hands covered in bell pepper juices and seeds, so she called, "Come in!" Susan opened the door, waving with one hand while lugging a thick binder full of papers in her other hand. "Susan, good morning! Silas is out right now, but I am making some stuffed peppers for lunch. You are more than welcome to join us. After all, the weekend is the time to relax and destress from the work week, is it not?"

Susan sighed, "A teacher's job doesn't end when the school bell lets out. Speaking of that, I was wondering if I could borrow your kid for a little bit."

"Frisk?" Toriel put down the knife to devote her full attention to her child's teacher. "Is something the matter?"

"Not like that," Susan laughed. "Frisk has been awesome since they started their IEP, if you put aside what happened yesterday. One of the kids in my class has been sick all year; I've been giving him special lessons on the weekends to keep him in the loop with his education. I was about to go see him and I thought I'd have Frisk tag along."

Toriel did not need to consider the request for long. "I do not suppose it will be any trouble. I already entrust Frisk to you for several hours a day during the week, I should not think one or two more on the weekend would be any trouble. But why Frisk? Are you taking every other child in the class along?"

Susan's smile became a little strained. "Well… it's taking a bit longer than I thought it would for Frisk to connect with their classmates. Oswald is going to be in more or less the same boat once they get out of the hospital; I figured if I get the two of them to be friends now it'll help them both."

Toriel furrowed her brow in concern. Frisk was having trouble with the other kids? To be honest, this was not a new problem for her. Asriel had also not been close to many other children his age. In his case, though, it was because of his status as the Prince. For what reason should Frisk also suffer from loneliness? "I suppose it would be a good experience for them, if they are agreeable. Shall I go see?"

"It's good," Susan waved off as she started up the stairs. "You can keep cooking, I can talk to Frisk myself. And we'll leave after lunch, because I am definitely staying to eat whatever you're making!"

Meanwhile Frisk was in their room, sitting cross-legged on their bed with their eyes closed. They took several deep breaths through their nose, then held their breath while they strained. After ten seconds or so they exhaled in a discouraged huff.

"Still nothing, huh?" Chara sighed. They were hovering so they appeared to be sitting on the dresser, even though every inch of its top was taken up by a lamp, various books, and dirty laundry.

"I can feel it, I think," Frisk confirmed. "But my magic field won't move no matter how I push. It's stuck."

"That's exactly how it was for me," Chara said. "Back when I was alive I could never do anything with it. It doesn't feel like you're doing anything wrong…" They rubbed their reverse-heart locket and looked over to the side, mumbling to themself, "This must have something to do with the human body's high magic resistance. The flipside to being hard to hurt with magic is that it's harder for your own magic to leave the confines of your body. But there has to be a solution here. Humans were able to do magic before. So how…?"

A knock came at Frisk's door. "Mo- Toriel?" Frisk called out. Chara shuffled over, hand still on their pendant, floating out of Frisk's field of view both to give them a clear look at whoever was coming in while also preventing them from distracting the child.

The door opened to reveal the smiling face of their teacher. "Sorry, it's your mean ol' teacher Ms. Liao," she teased. "Do you remember the empty desk in the class? It belongs to Oswald. He's been very sick, so I was going to go see him at the hospital." She hefted the binder with an evil grin. "Also to drop off the classwork he's missed out on, so he can catch up." Frisk boggled. If Oswald was really sick, giving him this much homework at once might finish him off. Susan continued, "Did you want to come with me? I already asked your mom, she agrees that it'll be good for you. After all, you weren't in the class yet when everyone signed the 'get well soon' card for him, so you should introduce yourself to him and wish him well in person!"

They did not actually want to spend their Saturday in the hospital, but they could already tell they were going to get strong-armed into it. "I guess," they said without much enthusiasm.

* * *

Papyrus trudged through the woods, the knee-high snow failing to slow him down in the slightest. He peeked behind one tree, reached inside a pile of snow, and sighed when he found nothing. He squinted as he surveyed the landscape. "Toby!" Papyrus shouted with his hands on his hips for what must have been the fourth baker's dozenth time. "Toby, this is quite enough tomfoolery! Get out here, you have some explaining to do! To~by~!"

A loud barked echoed behind him, causing Papyrus to jump three feet in the air. He whirled around to see a small white dog wagging its tail and looking up at him. The dog had many names. It called itself The Annoying Dog, or sometimes The Shitty Dog. Among the other dogs it was known as Least Dog (short for "Not Actually a Very Good Dog At All But At Least It's Still a Dog" Dog). But as far as Papyrus knew its real name was-

"Toby! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

 _I had to pick my time and place carefully_ , the dog said without speaking. Its mouth did not move, no sound came out of it, but ideas were communicated anyway. _I am restricted to this mountain and cannot leave._

"Oh, you mean you haven't heard? The barrier is broken! We monsters are all free now, thanks to Frisk! So I can bring you up to the surface and we can have a grand old time. You can steal my bones, I can get mad at you for stealing my bones, sure it's the same schtick but it's a whole new audience! It will put the magic back into it!"

The dog stopped panting and looked up at him with sad eyes. _This is probably the last time I can appear,_ Toby warned him. _You've gone past the parameters I've set for this world. I am no longer responsible for what happens next. I do not belong here anymore._

"That's crazy talk!" Papyrus insisted. "I know you've always said there is no surface, and we'll never be able to live happily there, but that was all just doom and gloom! Hey, speaking of which! Why did you tell me all that stuff? You were so sincere, I actually believed you!"

 _That was… a misunderstanding, on my part. I never conceived much of the world outside the mountain, so I believed it did not exist. But it exists outside of my mind, exceeding my own vision. It is… gratifying. To see everything progress so much farther than what I originally set out to do._ Toby curled up its paws to lay down on its stomach. _I had a simple task, and I completed it. I set up a playground, the kids had fun, and now they've gone off to do something else._ There was something else it wanted to say, though it seemed hesitant about whether it could, or maybe whether it should. _The important thing is, I have a message for you to deliver. Well, not so much a message from me, as it is something that will mean nothing to you but it will mean something to the right person at the right time. The message is this: "The only being remaining with the power to reset this world has promised to never return to it." Do you have that?_

Papyrus knelt down over the dog, pleading, "I hear it, but I don't understand it. Who am I even supposed to tell this to? Toby, what is going on? Why are you being so secretive? Why can't you just tell me!"

He could swear the dog was grinning at him. _Because I am a shitty dog,_ Toby said. _Helping people is against my nature. Besides, wouldn't you rather solve this puzzle yourself? All I'm doing is giving you a key. Finding the lock is up to you._ The dog shuffled back to its feet and lightly shook the snow off itself. _I hope things work out for you, Papyrus. I really do._

Papyrus froze. "You're… really leaving, then. You're not joking."

 _Yes, I am leaving for good. Which reminds me, I need a souvenir_. And with that the dog bit Papyrus' scarf and scampered off into the woods, an orange streak trailing behind it.

Papyrus snarled, "You mangy mutt! Get back here!" He barreled through the woods, dodging the trunks of deciduous trees as he followed the tracks Least Dog left behind. Left, right, leaping over a stream, Papyrus followed with furious determination. They were leading him further and further from Snowdin, but that was not so much of a problem; he could get back to town easily enough, but Papyrus knew if he lost track of the dog now it would be gone for good. He was so focused on the tracks that he did not notice the evergreen until he plowed face-first into it, screaming in outrage as he was covered in snow and pinpricks. Papyrus extricated himself from the coniferous trap and studied the dogprints which led him here. Sure enough they led directly into the tree, but there were no tracks leading away from it. Toby had seemingly dived into the needles and vanished. This was not out of character for it, but this did leave Papyrus without a means of following. He sighed and sat down with his back against a nearby tree. "You've bested me one last time, old friend," he said. "Stay safe, wherever you go."

From far away a dog with a brand new orange scarf howled once, the call echoing over the forest. _Goodbye, Papyrus. Goodbye, all of you._ Toby scampered off through a rock wall, passing through as though it were air. The dog was never seen or heard from in this world again.

* * *

Asgore sat behind a large desk, the surface mostly clean except for a single laptop computer and a small stack of papers. His hands were much too large for the keyboard but that was fine, he would not be using one. He looked at his notes regarding the last interviewee and sighed, letting them fall from his hand onto the top of the pile while he got out a fresh sheet.

After personally dealing with the hostage situation he stepped aside and let the City Guard handle the rest; he had made his point adequately, there was no value in him sticking his nose into their investigation and interrogation. He had been kept abreast of the information provided by the captured terrorists: the ringleader was an unknown monster with fiery rhetoric and wearing a black cloak over their whole body to conceal their identity. Flappy and a few other monsters tried to pin all the blame on them, but the majority of the captured invaders confirmed Black Cloak had been ejected from the group when they spoke out against the plan to attack Slightly Bigger School. It was possible, in fact likely, that the note received by the City Guard was written by Black Cloak; none of the others claimed responsibility nor had any knowledge of it. But no one saw the note being dropped off, nor was anyone suspicious seen in the vicinity of the guard house in New Home that entire day. A dead end. After such a disastrous failure it was unlikely that Black Cloak would ever poke their head out again, but an ending without a clear resolution left a bad taste in everyone's mouth.

So Asgore moved from one unpleasant task to another unpleasant task, what he was doing now. He needed to change his ways. Simply lounging in his garden and waiting for supplicants to come to him would not be enough on the Surface. He needed to attend meetings, hobknob with important humans in business and government, plan legislation, develop education plans for monsters coming to the surface, and the thousand and one smaller tasks which made up those larger goals. It was too much for one monster to arrange and still have the time to do any of it. It was time to do something he had spent the last hundred years avoiding.

He needed to hire a secretary.

Ostensibly this person would be in charge of clerical duties for the entire Monster Integration Committee. But seeing as how Papyrus and Asgore were the only full-time members, and Papyrus managed to get enough time in the day by simply never sleeping, in practice they would be Asgore's secretary. True, he could have hired a human to do the job, but he needed people that were dedicated to the cause of uniting humans and monsters. There were only a very few humans which fit the bill; Mayor Cole had warmed considerably after their disastrous first meeting, Silas and his friends were as helpful as ever, and according to Papyrus even a few state senators were willing to hear them out. But though monsters were accepted in Weymouth it was still an uphill battle; though they appreciated them as neighbors not many were willing to offer more than passive support, and they were starting to receive pushback from a group of concerned citizens called Humans First. Beatrice suggested hiring a monster as his secretary; placing a human, who could very easily hide their true allegiance, so close to the king was inviting disaster. He agreed, and so he was devoting his Saturday to finding the perfect candidate. There were many applicants to sift through; working directly with King Asgore would ordinarily be enough of a draw to attract the best and brightest, offering a place to live on the surface ahead of everyone else only made the competition even more heated.

"Next," Asgore called out. He smiled as he recognized the person to come in through the door. "Oh, Camille! It's been so long, I hardly recognized you! You… must have graduated from university by now, yes?"

"Just last year," Camille responded with a tiny smile. Camille was a lizard-like monster with a thin body and a ridge along the top-center of her head in lieu of hair. Her eyes were on opposite sides of her flat head; each one swiveled independently of each other as she walked across the room and sat in front of Asgore. It took her a little while to get there; her pencil skirt kept her legs from moving far apart, and as a result her stride was short and her legs not quite able to keep up a good pace. Once she sat down she faced him directly, both eyes on him. Though her smile was pleasant her stare was intense. "I am honored you remember me."

"How could I forget?" he said with a chuckle. "Not many parents still abide by the ancient tradition of allowing the king to name their firstborn. But Quilt, ah, she was such a stalwart defender of the old ways."

Camille smiled. "I have a very fine name, King Dreemurr. I wear it proudly." Asgore had always tried, with varying degrees of success, not to feel personally insulted that this particular tradition had begun its decline under his reign. He must not have done a very good job now for her to pick up on it so easily. Camille's left eye darted down to the notebook Asgore was using to evaluate the prospective employees, and she said, "Speaking of the old ways, even on the surface you will be using pen and paper?"

"I never got used to the computer," Asgore admitted. "I've never been able to keep up with all the things Dr. Gaster and Dr. Alphys made. You would be required to use a computer, though, it is a necessity in the fast-paced surface world. Is that going to be a problem?"

"It's a standard part of the curriculum at Monster College, though most students don't take more than the required classes. Not only am I familiar with the latest software, I can type at over 90 words per minute."

Asgore continued with the interview, dutifully writing down Camille's qualifications and asking about her education and accomplishments. Truthfully, he liked her. She was clearly comfortable around him, he could make no complaints about her skills, and her temperament was pleasing yet with something firm underneath. If he learned anything from his previous marriage it was that he needed someone willing and able to give him a kick in the butt from time to time. Still…

"I do have one concern," he said gravely. "I'm sure you have already been informed of this, but when Avery revived he claimed your mother attacked him and he had to defend himself. We always suspected this, and with his testimony there is no doubt what happened to her. With that, all three of the kills on his soul have been verified."

Camille blinked and turned her head so only her right eye was facing him. It shuddered almost imperceptibly in its socket. Her mouth was a thin line as she asked, "Who? Who was the third?"

Asgore rumbled, "His own father. It was a horrible accident, and what led him to the Underground. Humans have very complicated lives on the surface, even their children."

Camille did not move for a moment. When she did it was slow and deliberate, an exhale and a slow turning of her head to face him head on. "I see… so that was the burden he was carrying. It… doesn't surprise me that Mama K… I mean, Karin, sought him out to get revenge. She never forgave humans for sending that girl, Rebecca, to the Underground. She blamed all humans for Mama Q's death. She told me herself, she would kill the next human who fell or die trying. Even if it was unfair to push the blame onto Avery, I can't blame her for feeling that way. But I can't blame him, either."

The king nodded his head. "You understand what I am getting at. In this position you would be required to work closely with humans every day. We have no plans to do so currently, but it's not impossible that the Monster Integration Committee would co-ordinate with the previous fallen humans… including Avery or Rebecca's families. I do not want to reignite old trauma for you, but if I were to hire you it would be unavoidable. Are you truly, truly prepared to break bread with humanity for the good of all monsterkind?"

Camille did not say anything for a moment. Instead she looked down at her hands while she formulated a response. "I can't honestly say I'm fully over it," she admitted, her gaze hard. "But I don't want to be angry anymore. The whole situation with Slightly Bigger School, it showed me there was no future in hatred. If humans and monsters have to work together, I want to be right there to see it. To prove it myself, if I must, that the wrongs of the past can be forgiven and peace can be achieved." She licked her lips, her tongue moving almost too fast to see. "Besides, anyone you ask to fill this position from New Home will have either lost someone to the massacre or know someone who has. I am not unique in that. We all have to let that go or we won't be able to move forward. I confess I will never like those children, Rebecca especially. And… I can't forgive what she's done, not now and perhaps not ever. But if my only options are to stew in hatred until I Fall Down or work to make sure nothing like that ever happens again, the choice is clear."

Asgore slapped his hands on the table and rose up from his seat. Camille blanched, terrified she had said something mortally insulting. Instead Asgore walked around the desk, past Camille, and opened up the door to the hall where the other applicants were waiting. "You may all go home," Asgore called into the hall. "The position has been filled!" A chorus of disappointed groans filled the air but cut off suddenly as Asgore shut the door again.

Camille stood shakily, keeping her left eye on Asgore as he stood at her side. She rose from her chair and stammered, "Does… do you mean…?"

"Yes," he said, extending a paw. "Welcome to the Monster Integration Committee, Camille. I'll be needing your help as much, if not more, than you'll be needing mine."

"Of course!" she said, her cheeks flushing as she shook his hand. "I'm looking forward to working with you!"

* * *

A hospital was intended to provide an environment conducive to healing, but Frisk had always thought that meant being so unpleasant you wanted to get better and leave as soon as possible. Frisk knew they had been in a hospital before, they had been told they had been left at one as an infant, but they had no memory of this. Even so they had an innate dislike of hospitals. No matter where you went the smell of antiseptic was in the air, mixing with other scents to give them sterile notes where it could not overpower them entirely. The front desk was the quietest room so far, even with people rushing to get to where they really wanted to be as quickly as possible. Oswald's floor was much worse, with a cacophony of beeps and alerts ringing out from the main desk, nurses and doctors giving updates and discussing treatments, and carts with lunches or doses of medicine rattled to and fro. Frisk kept their hand in Susan's as she navigated the crowd expertly.

She led them down the hallway and let go of Frisk's hand to knock on a certain doorframe before walking in. The room was smaller than a lot of the others but had only a single bed. There was a boy smaller than Frisk in the bed, thin and with a misshapen head, holding a tablet in one hand and raising his head only a tiny bit when Susan knocked. His hair looked unnatural; it was healthy and strong compared to the rest of him, and the deep blackness was such a strong contrast with his pale skin that it seemed pasted on. The adults were obviously his parents, even with the child's illness wreaking havoc on his features the family resemblance was clear. Their shoulders were slumped and they were hunched forward in their chairs, but they still forced a smile when they saw a familiar face come to pay a visit.

"Hey," Susan said with a wave, speaking in a tone which was clearly less exuberant than she would have preferred to use. "It's your favorite teacher, Ms. Liao! How are we doing today?"

The child in the bed forced air out his nose. "Dying of cancer. Other than that just peachy."

Susan smiled sweetly and replied, "You're getting better every day, even I can see that." Then she turned her attention to the adults and hefted her basket. "I brought Oswald's classwork. I know he's still sick, but it's important to keep an eye on the future and make sure he doesn't fall too far behind. Oh! And this is Frisk Holder. They transfered into my class about a month ago. I thought it would be best for them to meet Oswald now so they could get to know each other." Frisk waved at them, hoping to make a good impression. Oswald stared right through them.

The woman summoned up a smile with some effort. "Thank you, that was very nice of you to bring them. Er, is Frisk…?"

"Frisk is a 'them'," Susan said politely but firmly. Both the parents raised an eyebrow but they were clearly too tired to question any further, so they simply nodded and accepted this. "How is he?"

"Good, everything considered," the man said, rubbing the bald spot on top of his head. "It's in remission, and the doctors are trying to get the last of it out. They say he should be able to go back to school within a couple weeks, though maybe only for a few hours a day at first. Depending on how he's feeling. But, you know Ozzy, he's a fighter!" He forced a chuckle at that, but that was not where Frisk was looking. Instead they looked at Oswald, who turned away from his father with a darkening expression at being praised.

"Great!" Susan said, not noticing what Frisk did. "We'll be happy to welcome him back to class!" She looked from Frisk to Oswald expectantly. "We should give them some time alone. Don't worry, Frisk is a good kid, they're not going to do anything bad." Without much further cajoling she led Oswald's parents into the hallway to continue their adult discussions out of range of the prying ears of children. They were still plenty close enough to hear the tone of the children's conversations, but they would be unable to hear the exact words.

Alright then, time to give this a try. "So," Frisk said nervously. "It must suck to be sick."

Oswald looked at them unblinkingly for a moment. Then he looked down at his tablet and poked it a few times. "Yeah," he said, his voice quiet and hoarse.

Frisk swallowed. "At least you get out of school." Oswald shrugged without looking up. Darn it, this was not going well. Frisk whimpered and turned toward Chara, hoping they had some insight or advice to share.

Chara, though, was distracted. They were looking at a corkboard hung on the wall, where various pieces of paper were stuck in with push-pins. Frisk recognized a few of them as get-well-soon cards, but could not read what they said or who they were from. Others had a bunch of writing on them in small and dense letters they did not have any hope of deciphering. "I have an idea," Chara said suddenly. "But you'll have to let me use your mouth for a moment. Can I speak with him?" Frisk thought that was a little suspicious- why could they not just tell them what to say?- but nodded anyway. The two of them had been practicing this when no one else was around, both to let Chara get more familiar controlling Frisk's body and to get Frisk used to the sensation of their body moving without telling it to. If Frisk got startled they would flinch and ruin Chara's delicate hold on them. So they let their jaw go slack and allowed their mouth to move without their conscious intention.

"It's stupid, isn't it?" Frisk heard the words coming from their lips. "All the kids from our class sent you a card, but how many of them even know who you are? Look, mostly they just signed it, no notes or even a 'get well soon'. Even the ones who added something don't say anything about _you_. They don't care about you. They just think they're s'posed to do something nice for you now that you're sick." Frisk clamped their teeth together as they realized what Chara had just made them say. Were they out of their mind?! Were they trying to get them in trouble?

Oswald studied Frisk through half-lidded eyes, but he did not seem angry. If anything Chara's words had awoken something in him, and it was like he was seeing Frisk for the first time. He reached out and grabbed a cup of water by his bedside and took a drink before responding. "Did you know," he rasped. "What the chances of me getting better are? How sure the doctors are they can cure me?" A dry chuckle escaped his lips. "Ninety two percent. If you play Pokemon, you know if something hits 92% of the time it's almost a sure thing. The doctor said if a hundred kids get what I have, ninety two of them will be fine." He shook his head and scoffed, looking out the window. "Everyone's always telling me how strong and brave I am. How I'm fighting hard every day to beat my illness. But I'm not. I'm no hero. I'm not doing anything special. I'm just unlucky enough to get something bad and lucky enough that its easily cured. Even if I get better it's not because I'm a good person or a tough fighter. Almost anybody would be okay." He looked back at Frisk with a scowl on his face and frustrated tears in his eyes that refused to fall. "And if I'm one of the eight who doesn't get better they still won't say anything bad about me. If I die it won't be because I was weak, or a quitter, or anything else. They'll say it was bad luck, it shouldn't have happened to such a good kid, it's a real shame, things like that. But doesn't somebody have to be unlucky? I mean… it's not 100%, so somebody has to not get better. Why is it sad if I die, but it's a miracle if I live and some other kid just like me gets it in the shorts instead? It's stupid. It's all so… frickin' stupid."

Frisk was so stunned they were unable to stop Chara's reply: "It's 'cause they think you don't know their words aren't meant for you."

Oswald tilted their head back and laughed uproariously, only getting a few out before it turned into a pained cough. They winced as they looked at Frisk again with newfound respect. "What was your name again?"

Chara floated over next to Oswald and bowed as though they were showing him off. Frisk forgot all thoughts of yelling at Chara for making them say weird things. "Frisk," they said with a tired smile. "Frisk Holder."

"Oswald Rye," the sick kid said, holding out a shaking hand. Frisk held it with a smile on their face. Oswald smiled back. "My friends call me Ozzy."

Chara took the lead: "So, does _anyone_ use that name?"

Oswald's eye twinkled with mirth and he snickered. "Wow Frisk, you're kind of a butt."

Thanks a lot Chara. "Can _I_ call you Ozzy?"

He had to think about that one for a moment. "Sure, if you want."

* * *

Reginald Pembrooke and his youngest son ate at the table, the ticking of a clock the only ambience. Normally Reggie would be slurping noisily at his soup, but today he watched the clock and stirred without eating. It smelled delicious, but he could not muster the appetite. The table was too long to sit two comfortably, there should be a third person there. But there was not.

Reginald Sr. tapped his spoon against the rim of his bowl to get his son's attention. He answered the question Reggie did not ask with, "I have made arrangements with the monster king. The investment is perhaps taking longer to bear fruit than I wished. But, all will be well, I'm sure of it."

He had correctly guessed what Reggie was so concerned about, but assurances did nothing to ease his anxiety. He stirred his soup absent-mindedly. "What if he doesn't, though? I think I made him really mad. He said it was okay, but I can tell he hasn't forgiven me at all." He took a deep breath, trasmuting his guilt into anger. "Why didn't you tell him I'd be there? You know the reason he hasn't responded is because he thinks I'll ambush him again. How is-"

"I have my ways and my methods," Reginald said cryptically. He stopped with the spoon midway to his mouth, returning it to the bowl as he looked up with a smile. "You're thinking too hard. Trust me, blood is thicker than water, the bonds of family are strong. I know she comes across as cold sometimes, but even Alicia knows her family is-"

"Silas," Reggie corrected. Reginald stared at his son, who licked his lips nervously. "His name is Silas, now."

Reginald snorted. "Don't encourage her, it's only a phase. She'll come to her senses soon enough, and she'll resent you even more for patronizing her. But if you confront her on it too soon it will only make her upset. I was young once too, I know how it is. Children go off to college and get foolish ideas in their heads. Did you know I went all the way to my junior year without declaring a major? I thought it would be funny to have a degree in nothing, the ultimate BS, ha ha ha! Come now, what's that gloomy look for? Just be patient and it will all work out. Do you think I don't know my own daughter?"

 _Not nearly as well as you think you do,_ Reggie thought but did not say. Not just because it would be pointless, but because he did not have any room to criticize. Silas hated him more than he hated Dad, even if Reggie was unsure why his brother was being so sensitive. "Nah, nothing," he backed down. "You're probably right." Reginald saluted with his spoon and resumed eating. Reggie felt like he had even less of an appetite now.

* * *

AN: If you think Reginald Sr.'s characterization is different here than in Chapter 9, I would ask you to reread the section in that chapter where Reginald is talking to Asgore about his children. Does anything strike you as odd concerning how he talks about Silas? Reginald is still a jovial man who is disarmingly pleasant and loves a good joke, but there's something else underneath that. Silas was quite right to be skeptical about him.


	22. Delayed Arrivals and Swift Departures

AN: Realistically the opening scene probably should have been a few chapters ago. In a week or two I'll remove the flashback italics and move it to an earlier chapter (probably 18) so it flows a bit better.

* * *

 _It was the night before Asgore was to make his descent into the mountain once again, to assure his people that all was going well and to bring up some additional staff to hasten the transition. He and Silas were going over his itinerary one last time when Silas_ _' phone buzzed to inform him of a new text message. He pulled out the phone, his quizzical glance turning sour as he read the context of the message. "Is there a problem?" Asgore asked._

" _Not anything business-related," Silas admitted. "My brother is coming up from college this weekend and my father wants me to visit. I could easily make the argument that I'm too busy to attend, that office space you need isn't going to rent itself, but I wonder whether he will accept that."_

" _So it would not be your true reason?"_

 _Silas shook his head._ _"I don't know if I'm ready to give Reggie another chance."_

" _Hmmmm," Asgore stroked his beard. "Now that I recall, your father did ask me to speak with you about that. Offer you my wisdom, for as much as my wisdom is worth these days."_

 _Silas rolled his eyes._ _"Are you going to try to convince me to patch things up with my brother? On my father's behalf?"_

 _Asgore watched the clouds for a little while before responding._ _"Relationships are very important in the Underground. There was no place new to explore, no resources which do not come from the runoff of humans. All we had was each other. And as you recall, being depressed or saddened or stressed is so very dangerous for most monsters. So it was important for everyone to stay agreeable and be conscious of other's well-being." He sighed deeply. "But. The most important thing is our own mental health. It is important to mind our own gardens, so to speak. So, if someone is dangerous to your mental well-being, there is never any shame in cutting them out of your life for a little or a long while. Offering support is good, but a toxic relationship is a matter of life and death for us. Even a family member does not deserve your time if giving them that time will kill you."_

 _Silas straighted up in his chair. This was not the response he was expecting._ _"I am… I'm not sure what you're trying to say."_

" _Don't try to take my words so seriously," Asgore laughed. "I may have had a long life, but all that means is that I've had more time to forget my mistakes. Your brother is, speaking as a leader of my people, a young man with a large heart. He is agreeable, his regret is plain, and so I am predisposed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. But as your friend, I tell you it is difficult for a man to be good at all times to all people. And I have my doubts over whether he is good to you, or will be able to become so despite his best efforts. You know him better than I, and if you feel he is safe for you to be around I will accept your decision. But if you feel he is not, I will also support you."_

" _Even if that alienates you from my father? Monsters already owe him, Asgore. If he thinks you have a hand in estranging his son from him I honestly don't know how he will react. As a king it would be smarter to let me fight my own battles."_

 _Asgore tilted his head from side to side._ _"Be that as it may, you were our friend first, and you are taking care of Frisk. If there is anything the last thirty years have taught me, it is that I do not have the temperament to put aside my personal feelings to act as a king should and I never should have tried. Since I cannot be a good king, I will be a good friend."_

 _Silas nodded. He closed the message without answering it and returned the phone to his pocket. At the very least, he needed more time before facing them again._

* * *

Sans had told himself he would wait three days. Then it turned into a week, then two weeks, then a month. Each time one deadline passed another took its place. He put off coming to the surface a little longer. But this time the decision was not going to be his to make. Papyrus had returned to the Underground to drag his brother up to the surface, and from the missive he sent this time he would not take "no" for an answer. It had been hard to care much about the surface. One of these days, he was sure, the kid was going to Reset. He was _sure_ , his data all but confirmed it. Of all the timelines which led out of the Underground only one was permanent. So why go to the surface if he was never going to be able to enjoy it? Whether he went or not he would be sent right back with no memory of it. But that was not happening. More than 70% of the points where a Reset should have occurred had passed by, and everyone was still here. His luck could not be this good. Something was up. And maybe it was time to look into this personally.

Sans taped up the last of the cardboard boxes and wiped his brow, even though no sweat was there. His left eye was a blue-yellow prism, reflecting something from deep within himself. It was not as though he could not do work. He just had to do it away from everyone else, behind the scenes, as it were. If he was alone he had ways of dealing with his condition. It was when other people were around to see what those ways were that he had to be more careful. His near miss with the Dogi was a rare slip-up; normally he would not have allowed himself to get so worked up, but the realization that the kids might be alive after all and the monsters on the surface did not know spurred him to action. Only, like a snowblower that has sat unused for years, trying to go to full blast brought him down and required some extreme measure to keep himself intact. The Dogi had not asked any questions at the time, their long years of service allowing them to treat the attack and not pry for answers right away. But afterward they had come by to ask what it was all about. Sans told them it was a failsafe Dr. Gaster had cooked up for his C3, which was not at all a lie even if it was not the full truth. From there they asked why Gaster had kept it under wraps, whether Alphys knew about it, and whether the same thing would work for Undyne, but he brushed them off. Gaster kept his work to himself and Sans was skeptical about whether he or Alphys would be able to replicate the technique; it would not work for a non-skeleton; there were limitations and side-effects Undyne would never agree to. These were half-truths at best, but unlike some people he used to know he never had a problem with lying to people. Not even to Papyrus, as much as it pained him to do it.

As though summoned by the thought of him Papyrus kicked in the door, arms straight at his sides and hands balled into fists. Sans could tell by the way Papyrus' shoulders jutted forward and the comically exaggerated frown on his face that he was not actually angry, though it would not hurt to let him vent a bit. The glow in his eye faded and he opened his arms. "welcome back, ambassador," he greeted. "you've been doing a real bang-up job from what i hear. uh… where's your scarf?"

"A dog stole it," Papyrus grumbled. "It was the perfect complement to my ambassador attire, too! I suppose I shall have to get another one." He glanced around the living room and his frown vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. The cleanliness of the room clearly shocked him; the furniture was piled up in the corner, and all the loose bric-a-brac had been piled into neat boxes. Even the sock had been picked up. "This is… Sans, you actually packed like you were supposed to!"

"yup, it's all ready to go up to the surface." He slapped his hand on the box he just finished. "packed, organized, and labeled."

"Oh, you're going to love it Sans! There's so many new things to see and do! The leaves are still so pretty, and the weather is much nicer and crisper than it is underground! I've been so busy I haven't even been able to work on growing my hair out."

"eh, I'm sure you'll find the time somewhere. just be careful," he warned. "I hear humans aren't allowed to have big hair when the weather gets cold."

"Really?" Papyrus said. "I haven't heard that."

"oh yeah," Sans confirmed. "it's a real ' _fro sin._ "

Papyrus squeezed his eyes shut and tapped a phalange against his forehead. "Ice puns aren't that much better than skeleton puns, you know. We live in a place called 'Snowdin'. Still, at least that was creative. I give it a 7."

"only a seven, huh?" he sighed. " _icy_ how it is."

"I changed my mind! It's a 3!"

"oof, now you're just giving me the _cold_ shoulder."

"NYEH! A zero! You get a zero!"

Sans put his hands behind his head and whistled. "and my perfect streak remains unbroken. but uh, just to warn you, it took me most of the month to get everything all put together. i don't think the two of us can carry it all up ourselves."

"Of course not, we're leaving most of these here until our house is finished being built! For now we'll sleep under the stars! Won't that be fun?"

"sounds thrilling." He was not being sarcastic, it actually did sound rather nice. "but that still leaves our stuff here."

Papyrus nodded. "Alphys said she would take care of it."

Well, if that was the case he had no need to worry. "sounds good. in that case, lead the way."

Sans would have preferred to take a shortcut, but he knew how doing that around Papyrus made his skull rattle so he compromised by taking a boat ride from the Riverperson. The Riverperson babbled, "A family is something given to you, but it's also something you choose." As usual, cryptic but not terribly helpful.

On their way back through Hotland Papyrus saw an amazing sight, or more correctly did _not_ see something and that was what was so amazing. The lab, which had stood on the border between Waterfall and Hotland for as long as he had known, was gone. There was a great plateau where it once was, empty and featureless save for a cemented-over square where the elevator to the True Lab used to be. "Oh my," Papyrus tapped his phalanges against his teeth. "Alphys can be just as lazy as you sometimes, but she must have worked overtime to tear down her whole lab so quickly! I wonder where it all went? It would be a shame for all that equipment and research to be destroyed simply because of a change of venue."

"i wouldn't worry much about it," Sans said. "if i know her, she's probably just planning to show off for her girlfriend."

Papyrus nodded approvingly at the empty space. "It certainly is quite impressive how she managed to make it disappear."

Sans could only laugh. "you think that's impressive, just wait…"

* * *

Carol Caroli dragged her suitcase up the stairs to her modest-sized but beautiful Oakland, California home. It had been many years since she could afford to hire people to do all her packing and moving for her, and even when she had the money she preferred to do it herself. She had been raised self-sufficient, or more correctly she had been taught trust was something which could easily be abused. She had aged better than the general public but not as well as a Hollywood actress was expected to, one of many reasons she was on the other end of the camera these days. Her brown hair with red highlights and (shock! horror!) hints of tinsel was tied back with a headscarf, which was about as much as she could bother to do after a week without bathing.

She did not even have the time to set her bag down and get her keys out before the door opened for her and her not-yet-teenage daughter came out. "Hi mom!" Kassy said with a hug. "Welcome back!"

"It's so good to see you!" Carol said as she hugged back, not lingering too long. It was already a huge surprise that her daughter was waiting for her, no use in pushing her luck too far. She even saw another suitcase set up near the door, surely Kassy had a sleepover or something to get to that she was holding off on going to just to greet her. She broke off the hug with her daughter only to get immediately pulled into another one with her husband. Jared Helzerg made his living as a translator, a job which allowed him to pull double-duty as a house husband. He was not in the cinema industry, never had been, and that was the way both of them liked it. She gave him a peck before apologizing, "I know editing went overtime again. I'm really sorry."

"You really ought to give yourself more time, everyone always goes over," he chuckled. "But, we get by somehow. We always do, and we will again."

"Well, I've got a bit of a lull before my next project in a couple weeks. So I'm all yours until then."

His smile seemed weak, and when he spoke again it sounded like he was changing the subject. "First things first, let's get you in the tub. You'll feel a lot better." She did not fight him on it. They shuffled her into the bathroom with suspicious alacrity, where a towel and a change of clothes had already been set out for her. She took her time, choosing not to ponder the overbearing helpfulness of her family during her hour of scrubbing and simply let the streams of hot water ease her muscles.

When she got out wearing the new clothes and her hair wrapped in a towel they were both patiently waiting for her on the couch. She did not let them greet her before holding up a finger and addressing them, "Okay, I've had my shower so I'm done playing along. What's up with you two?"

Kassy shook her head at her father. "Told you we couldn't hide it."

Jared held up his hands. "It's nothing bad! Well, not a huge crisis. Nobody's dying, or going bankrupt, or-"

"This isn't calming," Carol said politely but firmly. "Don't dance around the subject, just tell me what's going on."

Jared nodded and patted the seat next to him. "While you were filming, something came up. We didn't tell you because we know how important your work is to you," he said, sitting her down on the couch. "And I'd love to give you the rest of the weekend off, spend the next few days pampering you and letting you get your stress out. But, me and Kassy, we both agreed that it wouldn't be fair to keep you in the dark any longer. There's something you have to see. First… have you heard about the monsters?"

"I haven't been completely in the dark," Carol huffed. "They came out of some mountain near Weymouth, right? I had my publicist send a message of peace and goodwill." God, she hated that place. She left at 16 and did not return until it was time to bury Grandpa James and ship Grandma Avril to the nursing home. But showing such ingratitude to the village she grew up in was a bad look for a celebrity, especially when it experienced such frankly miraculous growth in the last twenty years. It was a much different place now than it was when she was growing up. Still, she would never like the people or the city of Weymouth. Too much bad blood. Too much old pain.

Kassy asked, "But… you haven't seen the speech their king made, right? On the first day they came out?"

"I've seen pictures of it," Carol said. "He's a big boy, isn't he? What is he, eight feet tall? More? Some of those kids barely came up to his waist!"

Jared picked up the remote. "We recorded it, so you could see it yourself. I think… that would be the best way." He hit the play button and Carol settled in to watch.

As speeches go it was not bad. Perhaps a bit unsophisticated by the standards of modern-day politicians, but it was perfectly non-threatening and King Asgore had a way of exuding confidence. He told a little bit about the children at his side, and the plight of the monsters, and his hopes for the future. But the moment he said the name 'Chara' Carol's face turned an ashen shade of gray. A thousand emotions welled up in her at once: relief that she had finally, _finally_ found them; despair that her tiny but fervent hope that they were alive and happy somewhere was dashed; anticipation of being able to hear what became of them; terror at what Chara may have told the monsters about their life on the surface. Most of all she felt her sins around her neck, the clarity that her crimes would be revealed and a punishment thirty one years in the making was coming due.

Jared paused the video. Kassy put a hand on her mother's shoulder to draw her from her reverie. She asked, "He's talking about Ommer Chara, isn't he?"

Carol swallowed. She tried to take hold of her daughter's hand but her own hands were shaking with too much nervous energy. "I…" she stammered, looking to both of them, knowing she was going to ask for a big favor and ashamed of needing it but it was too important to not ask. "I… I have to…"

"We know," Jared nodded. "The other suitcase, that one's for you. Fresh clothes and everything you need for a weekend trip. It's time, babe. You've waited long enough."

"But!"

"It's okay mom," Kassy nodded. "We'll see you when you get back."

Realistically, she knew delaying would be acceptable. Asgore had been clear Chara was dead and had been for some time. The sense of closure would have been the same if it were a week from now instead of today. And yet, that closure would come an entire week later. And that, in her mind, was unacceptable. Her feelings would not wait that long. Her guilt would not wait that long. "Thank you," she said, stifling her tears. "I'll be on the first plane there and on the first plane back as soon as I'm done. I'll call when I get to the airport. And again when I've landed. And every day-"

"I know!" Jared laughed. "Me and Kass will be fine. Go!"

She nodded, standing up from the couch and tearing the towel off her head even though her hair still was not completely dry. She marched out the door, grabbing the new luggage on the way back to her car. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her travel agent's number. "I need to get to Weymouth, New Hampshire. I'm on my way out now, drop everything else to figure this out, I don't care if I have to stuff myself into a suitcase and fly baggage, get me there. Find the number for Asgore Dreemurr, call him and make an appointment with him immediately." She sighed into her phone. "Say I can tell him everything he wants to know about Chara and then some, he'll clear his schedule."

* * *

A somewhat larger entourage was leaving the Underground than what came inside. By the time Sans and Papyrus arrived everyone was all ready to go, or at least Sans hoped this was everyone. Alphys and Undyne surveyed the crowd, Alphys gritting her teeth and shaking while Undyne seemed mostly concerned that Alphys was bringing nothing but a computer to the surface. She brought her robot too, a box thing with a wheel who was reading a few index cards while humming to himself. Next to him was a lizard-like monster in a business suit he did not recognize. She held a clipboard close to her chest and nervously peeked at the cave opening. And of course there was Asgore, stroking his mane while he considered what his next move should be. He took the interruption well and greeted the newcomers, "Sans! Papyrus! Glad to see you made it! Erm, where did your scarf go?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Papyrus huffed. "Oh, but there is a person here who I don't know! Hello new person!"

Asgore nodded, "Ah, yes. This is Camille, the new secretary for the Monster Integration Committee. She will be working with us on the surface. Camille, this is the Ambassador for Monster-Human Relations, the Great Papyrus."

Sans blinked. Wait, did Asgore say secretary? He did a double-take at her stats; EXP 0 and LOVE 1 were fine, but all her other stats were way higher than any administrative assistant had the right to be. Wait, that name was familiar… wasn't she Quilt's daughter? Yeah, that would explain it; even if Camille went into clerical work her mother would have insisted she not neglect her physical training. He shook his head clear; he had to stop jumping at shadows.

Camille turned her head very slightly so she could see Papyrus with her right eye while her left eye pivoted independently to keep the cave entrance in its view. She held out a hand for a shake, which Papyrus took exuberantly. "Greetings, Papyrus. I've heard of you, but I regret to say I am not as familiar with your work as I would like. We shall have to become more familiar by working together."

"How is that possible?" Papyrus said, genuinely concerned. "Have you not been keeping abreast of my exploits?"

"I haven't been watching a lot of TV lately," she explained sheepishly. "My old television broke, and I haven't bothered getting a new one. After all, when everyone's on the surface we can get much better sets from the store rather than fixing what humans throw away, right?"

"That does make a bit of sense," he admitted. "But what about computers? Alphys, I thought you hooked up the human internet!"

"I-I did?!" Alphys said with a jump. "O-Oh! Yes, I did! But, uh, outside of the labs and the schools there aren't that many computers to go around… if Camille graduated, she probably wouldn't have one of her own and not much ability to reach one."

"Something like that," Camille admitted. Then she turned to Sans. "And I know you as well. I've been looking forward to meeting you for some time. You're Sans."

"the one and only," he said, holding out his hand.

Papyrus was too late to warn her; a flatulent sound filled the air as their hands clasped. A tiny blush formed on Camille's cheeks as she smiled and demurely apologized, "Oh, was that me? Gracious." Excellent, she took it in good humor. That did a lot to ease Sans' mind. "But tell me," she said, releasing his hand. "You were there when… when that human was killed. What did she say? What reasons did she give for… for killing Momma Q?"

Rebecca. Even though he was taken aback, Sans did not let his grin diminish into a grimace for even a split second. He was very good at concealing what he did not want getting out. "wish i could tell you more, but you must've read the reports. everything to say's been said there. she was raving about stuff that didn't really make sense, and she certainly didn't give a reason for doin' what she did."

"But her words!" Camille insisted. "What did she _say_?"

Sans could only shrug. "didn't remember too well then and my memory's even worse now. sorry to disappoint, but i don't have the answers you're lookin' for." Sans had a lot of practice lying to people, and he did not feel bad about doing it.

Camille's shoulders fell and her head tilted down. "I… I see. Thank you. And, sorry for bothering you."

Asgore coughed in an effort to clear the awkward air which had settled. "Silas and Martin are waiting for us in their vehicles just down the road," Asgore murmured. "But in order to reach them we will have to somehow get past these reporters. When it was just Papyrus and I we were able to manage it, but it will be dangerous to attempt to bowl through them all with so many of us here. The odds one of us will get separated from the others is too great."

"Step aside," Mettaton preened, pushing his way past Asgore. "A crowd is not a thing to be feared, but embraced! Behold, for this shall be the moment the surface will never forget. The moment they are introduced to the wonder and majesty that is _moi_." There was a moment where he and Asgore looked at each other and a sort of understanding came between them. The corner of Asgore's lip turned upward and he stepped aside to leave a clear path for the robot. Mettaton wheeled out past the Former Royal Guardsmen and into the middle of the throng. He addressed the massed reporters, "Greetings, humans of the surface! I am the singular television personality of the Underground, Mettaton! Without even knowing it your souls have long awaited my arrival. Good friends, the day all your lives will change has finally arrived! Now presenting, your newest and brightest star!"

His body began emitting smoke, eliciting a few coughs from the reporters and more confusion than reverence. Luckily the mountain air blew the smoke away quickly, and when it dissipated the ratio of puzzlement to wonder flipped around. Mettaton EX stood where a dumpy looking robot had been a moment before, the sun sparkling off his chassis to give him a dazzling glow. One hand snaked out to grab a microphone while he used his free hand to flick his hair out of the way. "I give you now the opportunity, to honor me with your questions."

He had done such a good job of holding everyone's attention that the rest of the monster entourage, including the king, were able to push past the reporters while the smoke had kept everyone busy, and it was not until almost an hour later before anyone in the media realized what had happened.

* * *

Marty drove Alphys, Undyne, and Sans back to the site of the monster settlements; Asgore, Papyrus, and Camille apparently needed to discuss business in their new office before turning in for the night. A few tents had been set up for Asgore and Papyrus, and two of the apartment buildings were finished with four more in various states of completeness. Marty whistled and offered, "Things might close early on Sunday but it's not too late, you know. I can prob'ly grab a couple things from the store, a few more tents for you guys or a space heater or something. Don't gotta worry about paying me back, either, it's all money Papyrus got me by being on my streams. Or you know, you could probably crash in one of the empty apartments. It's not like anyone else is using 'em."

"D-don't worry about us," Alphys said, hooking up her computer. The power cords for the monitor and tower were plugged into a large battery, "I, uh, brought a little something in my computer here. This is the spot where the labs were supposed to go, right?"

Sans realized what Alphys was about to do. He considered a flaw she may not have thought of but decided it would be easier to just let it play out. "do you have to do it right now? we just got here, lie back and enjoy the ambiance before doin' the heavy stuff."

"M-might as well do it now while there's still light," Alphys chuckled. "After all, it's got my bed and all my stuff in it, so… heh. I brought a generator so I can have power while waiting to get plugged into the grid, so all that needs to be done is to, well, bring it all up. You all, uh, might want to stand back for this."

Undyne's quizzical look changed to one of surprise. "Wait… you didn't! Really? The whole lab?!"

"Heh," Alphys laughed. "Heh heh heh… just watch." She pushed her glasses up on her face and focused intently on the monitor. In the short time she had known her Alphys had realized Toriel was much better at healing magic than she could ever be. Asgore was adept at four different types of magic and only stopped there to give himself something to look forward to. Papyrus and Sans were masters of blue magic, and Undyne's green magic was top-notch. But nobody, and that meant nobody, could beat her at purple magic.

Alphys focused all her energy on the monitor. She grit her teeth as she felt her magic ebb away from her, pulling from the screen and towards the empty lot. It was going to be close. She focused on her memory of the lab, every grain of wood, every half-finished project, every piece of half-busted fan merchandise she owned. It was all there on the screen, listed in meticulous detail. She grasped hold of it and ripped the data out of her machine with an uncharacteristic guttural scream.

And then, where before there had only been an empty field, stood the laboratory. It stretched up to stand equal to the treetops. The red tint of sundown reflected off its surfaces, marred by heat and time. It really was the Hotland Labs, down to every last detail. Alphys collapsed to her knees and took big gulps of air, fishing an inhaler from her labcoat pocket and taking a huff. It was all worth it, though, as Undyne's face broke into a wide grin and she shouted, "AW YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH! My girlfriend is _awesome!_ " Alphys gave her a thumbs up between breaths.

Marty fell down on his backside, staring with open-mouthed awe at the laboratory. He turned to Alphys, trembling, and asked with more gravity than she had ever heard from him before, "Alphys… monsters… magic can do this?" He shook his head slowly. "… Oh, Silas is gonna _flip_ …"

Sans chuckled once to himself as he studied how flashy and obvious the lab was, and wondered how the humans would take this appearing literally out of nowhere. "heh. this is going to have some repercussions." Oh well, at least he would get to sleep indoors tonight.

* * *

AN: There is no universally accepted gender-neutral term for an aunt or uncle in English. I know some people are trying to get 'parsib' to trend (a portmanteau of "parent" and "sibling") but I don't like the mouth-feel of the word. I use 'ommer' here because I personally prefer the sound of it, but I acknowledge other words exist and there is as of yet no consensus on which, if any, are 'correct'.


	23. Here We Go A-Carol-ing

Silas was going to be late for work this morning. Marty had told him last night he needed to see what Alphys did, and truth be told it was impossible to miss. From the moment he woke up the news stations were blaring with questions about the strange building that had appeared fully formed overnight at the site of the monster neighborhood. The laboratory was on total lockdown; Undyne was doing her best to run interference for the reporters, and Camille decided to work from inside the lab today, fielding calls and emails intended for her boss remotely. Silas managed to sneak inside before the clamoring reporters blocked the way in, and now had Sans and an apologetic-looking Alphys to answer his questions and Beatrice joining in by speakerphone to provide her thoughts.

Silas fumed, "At the very beginning I told you clearly, if I get surprised it's the end of all of you. Well, I got surprised. There is a sea of reporters on the front lawn of this lab who want to know where it came from and I don't have anything to tell them."

Alphys tapped her index claws together and stared at the table. "It's, uh, not anything we didn't tell you before, I don't think. Toriel said she explained purple magic to you…"

"It was explained to me as 'turn objects into writing and symbols'. I wasn't told you could shrink a whole building to fit onto a hard drive!"

"W-w-w-well, most people can't," Alphys fidgeted. "Purple magic is, uh, sort of a specialty of mine. And, uh, in retrospect I… probably should have figured Toriel wouldn't know about the most recent advances in magical practice and engineering. Heh heh… heh."

Silas resisted the urge to bury his face in his palms, but he did have to turn around so Alphys could not see his face. "Ms. Lincoln, you explain to them. Off the top of your head, how would you be able to use the ability to store physical objects as virtual data and bring them back out later?"

"Hmmmm," came Beatrice's voice from the relay, considering the question as a mere intellectual curiosity. "I could store the entire inventory of a business on a single computer and save literally millions of dollars in storage and warehouse fees. I could ship product over the internet and have a monster on the other end pull it out again; even if direct home delivery would still be impractical I could have near-instant delivery to the distribution center and at almost no cost. The trucker unions won't like it, but the savings are so high it would be difficult for them to compete. Heck, perhaps I could start a moving company; instead of burly men with massive trucks, a few nerds in a compact car could zap all your possessions onto a thumb drive and simply drive it across town. Or across country for that matter. It would not be an exaggeration to call purple magic a 'revolution'."

"Exactly," Silas finished. "Making fire, changing gravity, those are toys compared to this. Infrastructure would be upended. Entire industries would die overnight. Shit! Before any of that the government is going to want to slap Top Secret labels on everything here and make it a state secret so one guy can pop open their cellphone and drop an army anywhere in the world!"

"doesn't work that way," the short skeleton interrupted. "purple magic can't affect anything with a soul."

Silas blinked. He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Meanwhile Beatrice asked in his stead, "So it doesn't work on living things?"

"anything with a soul," Sans corrected. "not the same thing."

There was a faint sound of creaking wood, Beatrice leaning forward in her seat. "How so?"

"W-well, we haven't been able to test that so we don't really know," Alphys said. "But the line has to exist somewhere. Plants and rocks don't have souls but humans and monsters do, right? So what about stuff in between? Does a really smart animal like a dolphin or elephant have a soul, or does intelligence have nothing to do with it? What about monkeys, which are similar to humans? Does a dog have a soul? Does a bug? It's one of the areas I'm really looking forward to researching once we get off the ground here!"

By this time Silas had recovered himself a little. "Okay. Okay. I understand this is a wonderful form of magic with all sorts of possibilities. What I'm wondering is, why weren't we told about this earlier? Toriel said purple magic was nearly useless and not worth bothering going over in detail."

Alphys clicked her index claws together. "Ssssso… okay, quick, uh, history lesson. Purple magic predates computers. You could transfer things onto a page or stone tablet and it turned into weird symbols and blotches. It was believed those symbols describe the object in meticulous detail, every curve and angle and color and blemish. And of course there's a limit to what you could put on the page. So, you know, it only worked if the object was small! And very, very simple. Like, geometric shapes simple. For a long time people thought purple magic was useless, or at least impractical. But! Very recently we realized the bottleneck was the amount of space needed for the magic to work! Computer files are limited by the hard drive space but you can fit more in it than even the largest page! From there it wasn't hard to develop the box system across the Underground, and later to put that technology directly into cell phones."

"How recently was this?" Beatrice asked. "Recently enough that we could speak to the scientist who pioneered it?"

"Um…" Alphys looked to the side and straightened her glasses. "That, um, was me. Not solely me, of course! I got a lot of assistance from my teachers and professors. But that's how I ended up working at the Labs right out of college. I, uh… think Dr. Gaster was impressed, but it didn't fit into what he was working on so I was never part of his 'main team'. That's… probably the only reason I survived, heh. Because I was useless to him. So I… wasn't there when it all went wrong."

Silas rubbed his temples. Toriel had told him purple magic was an oddity and not much else because she honestly did not know any better. She had sequestered herself away for just over thirty years and was completely ignorant of the advances made in her absence. He knew that and still trusted her information on magic was up to date. Some people, when their own incompetence was revealed to them and it was time to salvage their own pride, would become even more angry and redouble their efforts to push the blame onto someone else. Silas was very much the opposite; now was the time to make nice and move along and hope everyone else forgot before they realized who screwed up. "I see. Well, there's nothing for it now. We'll have to roll with the punches as best we can. But while we're on the subject, are there any other major developments in magic or technology in the last thirty-odd years? Anything else amazing you've done?"

Alphys shook her head. "None that worked. I, uh, tried to miniaturize the espirospectrometer but the prototype failed and, erm, was destroyed and I never had the time to try it again. The big one is in storage now, it's going to be crucial for getting humans up to date on souls and, if we can get any volunteers, scanning human souls will be a wealth of data! Um, could I maybe convince you…?"

"Later," Silas held up a hand. "What about the scientist before you, Dr. Gaster? Anything he made I should know about?"

"nothing useful," Sans said, his smile betraying nothing. "gaster became obsessed with the idea of time travel in his last years. nothing came of it before he wiped himself out so thoroughly he didn't leave dust behind. oh, there's also those containers we found in the secret lab. we're pretty sure they had something to do with how the kids came back but don't know how."

Silas mused, "Sounds like something to follow up on. Quietly. Let's not put out a press release saying you can revive the dead at will unless we can actually back it up. And if neither science nor magic is involved, where _did_ that robot on television come from?"

"Who, Mettaton? Oh, he's, uh, not really a robot," Alphys said sheepishly. "He's a… well, he's a ghost who's possessing a robotic body. Merged with it seamlessly, to the point where he'll die if the body is destroyed. Not really something I can recreate without another willing ghost. But uh, that's not magic. Or science."

He could already tell this was going to make his brain hurt. Better put it off for now. "One last question. I had a thought about something else Toriel mentioned about combining bullets and different types of magic. So, blue bullets? They're the ones that only affect moving things?"

Alphys nodded tentatively, apparently hoping this was not leading towards another outburst. "Y-Yes. Iiiiit's kinda complicated to explain why, but for laymen it's usually enough that the magic is unwilling to intrude into the same point as an existing solid object so it slides itself within and around you. Passing through without actually touching you. But if you move it creates a sort of, uh, shunting effect, because two physical objects can't occupy the same space at the same time. Since a body, even a monster body, is more solid than a bullet, it wins, just not without damage."

Sans shrugged. "basically, if you stay perfectly still blue bullets can't hurt you."

Silas put a finger on his lip. "But it will hurt you if you move? What if someone put a blue bullet right on top of you and left it there?"

Alphys thought about that for a moment. "Well, you wouldn't be able to move until they dispelled the bullet, obviously."

"So what if someone did that, then tossed a whole bunch of regular bullets at the target while they were stuck? They'd have no choice but to get hit, right?"

The lights in Sans' eyes went out, his eyesockets deep pits of cold, forsaken black. Alphys began shivering violently as the color left her face. "I…" she whispered. "I, uh, d-don't know. I-I don't think I want to talk about this anymore."

Silas frowned. "I'm sorry, but it's important. If bullets can do that then-"

Alphys slapped her hands over her ears. "Please, I'm begging you! No more! I… I can't-!"

"Hmmmm," came Beatrice's hum from over the speakerphone. "Interesting. Mr. Pembrooke, I suggest you do as the doctor asks and cease this line of questioning. I don't believe further prodding will get you any more useful information."

Silas considered this. Alphys was in no condition to face the crowds and tell them about purple magic. "Alright, I'll leave it for now. Doctor, you're excused. Take some time to rest, Papyrus can explain the situation to those outside. Ms. Lincoln, thank you for the support. I'm sure you have a full day ahead of you like always." Alphys slunk out of her chair and plodded off to the escalator, her skin looking thin and dry as if someone had grabbed both ends of her and wrung her out like a towel.

"Yes," Beatrice agreed. "Lilly is having some of her girlfriends over and I must make myself scarce. Would not want to embarrass my niece by revealing she lives with such an unlikable old crone. In the meantime, inform Asgore all the legal issues regarding his new offices are complete. The rental is complete and he can begin renovations immediately. Goodbye for now, Mr. Pembrooke." She disconnected with a hiss and a click, leaving Silas alone with Sans.

Sans waddled up him and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to point in the direction of the reporters outside. "you're not gonna have asgore talk to them? if its because you don't want the king involved in anything that might get rough, it isn't cool to throw my brother to the wolves instead."

Did Sans think Silas was that kind of a person? "Papyrus is naturally disarming and he keeps his head a lot better than Asgore does. He's more trustworthy in general and they're more likely to take what Papyrus says at face value. I understand you might have some worries about humanity, but believe me when I say that even if it goes badly your brother will be in no danger. Reporters, even offended ones, aren't known for brandishing the pitchforks and torches themselves." Sans was not wrong to think that of Silas, but though the situation was troublesome Silas did not think it so bad he had to worry about sacrificing anyone. And if it were he would not send Papyrus to his death. Papyrus was much too valuable for that.

Sans seemed to accept this. "just lookin' out for my bro, you know?" He walked over to the speakerphone and unplugged it entirely, looking past Silas to make sure Alphys was out of earshot. "had to make sure she didn't have a finger on the 'mute' button. hey, buddy. c'mere a second. got something to say to you and nobody else." Sans motioned him over. Silas leaned closer to him. As he did so Sans' closed his left eye. "that thing you mentioned, with the blue bullets? try not to talk to monsters about it. any monster. and if you discover any other sweet hacks you can do with bullets, just keep 'em to yourself, alright?"

Silas unconsciously gripped the table. "Is… this a threat?"

"nah, lighten up, it's…" Sans sighed. As he did Silas could have sworn there was something glowing from inside Sans' empty skull to shine through his… eyelid? "monster souls are made of hope, compassion, and mercy. that last one, 'mercy'? it means there's an inner part of every monster that can't kill someone without giving 'em a fighting chance no matter how much they want 'em dead. yeah, there's probably lots of ways to use bullets that'll kill someone no trouble. no dodging, no way out. the thing is, monsters can't use any of them. it hits us right in the mercy. our souls rebel if we even consider it. it's literally unthinkable. so if you talk about it monsters are gonna get real uncomfortable and cagey. alph back there, she was protecting her pride. because you led her right to a certain thought, and it seems so simple for her to make the next logical step but she can't do it. she feels stupid that she can't, but it ain't her fault. so don't bring it up again, okay?"

He supposed that made sense. But did it mean humans did have that capability? And… "So what makes you different? How come you can talk about this so casually?"

Shrug. "not much. mercy's a part of me, too, so don't ask me to repeat myself. we clear?"

"Crystal."

"cool." Sans opened his eye. Same tiny eyelight. Nothing weird there, or at least nothing weird by monster standards. "anyway, send frisk my way the next time you see 'em. it's been a month since i've seen the little tyke and i'd like to catch up with 'em. ya know, in private."

Fat chance of that happening. Sans had not done much to win Silas' trust, and in fact it was obvious he was hiding something. He was good, very good, at hiding what he wanted hidden; even Silas could only tell something was being concealed, with no hints of the nature of the secrets. "I'll see what I can do," he said diplomatically. Sans seemed to accept that and shuffled away.

* * *

("Memorandum; To Public Defenders of New Hampshire, From Silas R. Pembrooke, Dated 10/15/4X, Re: Legal issues of LOVE and EXP")

 _LOVE and EXP are factors of the soul. Their presence or absence cannot be tested for without the aid of specialized devices. These devices look into your soul, and can provide detailed information on the subject_ _'s personality and history in addition to EXP._

 _This information is completely accurate; there is no way known to either monsters or humans to reduce these numbers after-the-fact, nor is there a way to trick the machines in a way which is not completely obvious. Even if EXP or LOVE has been acquired, however, it is only proof that a suspect has killed an intelligent being; it provides no evidence of when the act was committed nor the circumstances surrounding that act. Self-defense, willful murder, manslaughter; all of these acts will leave EXP on a person_ _'s soul. However, it is known that hiring an assassin, planting a bomb, or using poison does not result in EXP. It is currently unknown whether an accidental death or one where the perpetrator does not know the result of his actions results in gaining EXP, nor is there any ethical way of determining the answers to these and many other questions. It is clear, however, that using a person's LOVE and EXP during a trial is a significant disadvantage for the defense. The presence of LOVE is a 100% guarantee they have killed someone at some point in their past, while the absence of LOVE is not evidence they have not._

 _The wildly invasive nature of determining a person_ _'s LOVE, and the sharply limited utility of using it as evidence, provides an avenue for arguing against the routine use of this data. However, once a suspect is in police custody the law is likely to accept the state's legitimate need to collect evidence overrides the suspect's privacy concerns. Maryland v. King allows the collection of DNA evidence without consent, and citing this as precedent proponents of LOVE testing are likely to succeed in their arguments should the question come before the Supreme Court._

 _Thus it would be wiser to make the general public aware of the significant weaknesses of this information; it cannot prove a suspect killed a particular person at a particular time, nor can the absence of EXP exculpate from any responsibility in a person_ _'s death. By stressing the limitations of this knowledge, combined with the visceral negative reaction many will feel on learning it looks into your soul, may provoke public outrage and legislative action to ban police from using these devices._

* * *

Frisk was not any more successful making friends on the school bus than they were in class. Normally this would mean staring out the window while ignoring the conversations going on around them, but now they had someone to talk to even if they were not here. They spent the whole ride home chatting with Oswald over text messages, Chara reading off Ozzy's messages while borrowing Frisk's fingers to type out replies. Frisk was not especially worried about what would happen if Ozzy learned Frisk could not read; they could just say a friend helped them and it would not be a lie. Oswald had figured out quickly that Frisk was the missing child from the news reports back in September, but so far he had not asked what Frisk had been up to during the days they were missing and Frisk did not volunteer that information. It got harder to keep a lid on that when Oswald tried talking about what they did all day and mentioned one of their hobbies was tracking the monsters, especially Papyrus. Chara refused to lie and type out that Frisk had no idea who Papyrus was, but they were more amenable to simply not offering an opinion and allow Ozzy to speak to his heart's content. To hear Ozzy tell it Papyrus was incredibly funny and perhaps the only truly genuine person on the face of the earth. This was an assessment Frisk could not disagree with.

The school bus stopped at the edge of the condo association and put on its lights. Frisk stepped off the bus and waved goodbye to the driver. Silas' condo was at the end of a line of similar houses, so they had to walk all the way to the end to get home. The lack of a delicious smell on opening the door immediately informed them Toriel was not here; normally she would be cooking up a snack for them to enjoy after a long day of school. Instead there was only Marty, sitting on the couch with a computer on his lap and the television turned to a news channel. On the teleivision Papyrus was taking reporters questions about the laboratory which suddenly appeared; he seemed relaxed and the tone of the questions sounded neutral so Frisk assumed it was going well. Marty greeted, "Welcome back from school, little-" He stopped when he looked up and whistled in appreciation. "Damn, kid, nice shiner! You give it to the other guy just as bad?"

Oh, right. They still had the black eye, they had not seen Marty all weekend so of course he would not know about it. Frisk shook their head. "No. They hit me before I was ready and a teacher saw."

"Really? That's no good. You have to give as good as you get or people'll walk all over you."

"But if I fight back I'll get in trouble…"

Marty made a show of peeking over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening and stage whispered, "Hey, Frisk? Take it from me, do all the stupid and dangerous things you can now. When you get older you'll realize 'being in trouble' is a fake idea."

Frisk raised an eyebrow at that but did not respond. It sure felt real to them. "Where's Toriel?"

"It's just you and me, li'l duder," Marty said apologetically. "Silas's at work, and Tori ran off to go see Asgore."

That seemed out of character. "Do you think she's… forgiven him?"

Marty shrugged. "I doubt it. Sounded really important, though, she called me up and demanded I keep the house warm for you. I guess I can't blame her, though. It's not every day Carol Caroli comes back to town and wants to meet with you personally."

Caroli. Kah-ROW-lee. The name did not sound the least bit familiar. Frisk tilted their head. "Who?"

"I know a lot of her movies were before your time, but you don't know her at all? She's Weymouth's pride and joy, the local girl who turned into a big movie star! Or, you know, she used to be. She's still in the film business but she's a director now. Heh, you know she was my first celebrity crush? Man that takes me back! I wish I could go see her too! But I heard she came down to talk to Asgore and Toriel directly, so I'm not really sure what it's about. Think she wants to give 'em a movie deal?"

Frisk heard a gasp nearby and reflexively turned towards Chara. The ghost had suddenly gone pale, their eyes widened. They crossed their arms in front of their chest and their hands gripped their biceps like they were trying to tear out their own muscles. The name slipped out of their mouth in numb horror: "Caroli?!"

* * *

 _They nudged the form under the blankets._ _"Sis, sis!" they whispered, trying hard to keep their voice down even though they were so excited they felt ready to burst. "Are you up?"_

" _Of course," Carol said, pulling the blankets down. "I could tell you wanted to say something all day. You've looked so happy, I've been dying to see what it was!"_

 _They nodded with more joy and energy than they had managed in_ _… well, a very long time. "I found it in the library, looking at the star charts. Come here, near the window, I'll show you!"_

 _The two of them, one in a pristine nightgown and the other in a dirty skirt and blouse, crept to the open window. There were no toys spread across the floor, no bottles of perfume or containers of makeup littering the vanity. The bookcase was mostly lined with fake plants and statues of Jesus or Mary, the few books there consisting of religious texts or fiction by religious authors. The room was meticulously clean; other than the pushed-back covers on the bed it looked less like a young girl_ _'s room and more like a room belonging to a dead family member. Even though it was only a few steps from the bed to the window it took nearly a minute to get there; even a single toe out of place would summon their grandparents. They did not even want to think about what would happen to them, let alone their sister, if they were caught in her room after dark. "Look up there," they said, pointing out in the distance. "See those two stars near each other?"_

 _Carol squinted._ _"I see one of them, but where's… oh! There it is! That second one is kind of hard to see."_

 _They nodded._ _"I read about them in a book in the library. The bright one is called Cor Caroli. The dim one is called Chara. They're part of a constellation, Canes Venatici, but those are the only two stars in it that can be seen. In the huge night sky, they only have each other."_

 _Carol nodded in realization._ _"… Just like us."_

" _Yeah!" they said. They knew she would understand! "And Caroli, that's only one letter off from your name!"_

" _Is it? It's pronounced way different. Wait, does that mean…!"_

 _They nodded._ _"I decided I'll be the quiet star who hides their brilliance. Who only has one person they can believe in in all the world. I'm taking it as my name… Chara."_

" _Chara," Carol tested the name herself. "Chara. I like it! It's pretty! Okay, from now on you'll be my sibling, Chara!"_

 _Their face flushed and their cheeks hurt from smiling, but it did not matter. Every day living here was torture. There was no point in passively enduring it in hopes it would get better. It never would. But someday Carol would get both of them out of this house, and they could live like a person again. Their sister, one of the only good humans who existed. The only one they could count on absolutely. Their emotions overflowed; they hugged Carol and felt her wrap her arms around them in turn while they both struggled to keep their giggles down._

 _Carol would save them. It was the only hope they had._

* * *

"No!" Chara shouted, whirling toward Frisk. "Call her right now! Pull out your phone, call Toriel and make sure she doesn't meet her! She can't know, you can't let her know!"

"Yo! Earth to Frisk!" Marty called out, standing up from the chair. "You started staring off into space. You all right there, duder?"

Frisk nodded, trying very hard to ignore Chara's increasingly frantic commands. "Yeah, I'm okay. Um, I'm gonna… head up to my room. Maybe take a nap, o-or something."

"Oh. Okay." Marty seemed a little hurt that they did not want to spend time with him… they would have to make it up to him later. But Chara was _breaking the rules_ , and if they had to keep trying to have two conversations at once their head was going to explode. Frisk raced up the stairs, slipping out of one shoulder strap on their backpack and then the other before opening the door and flinging it into their room.

"Frisk, please, I'm begging you, I don't want this! I don't want them to know, I don't want them to think of me as some… some weepy victim who deserves their pity! Can't you even try?! I-"

"What do you want me to do?!" Frisk shouted. Chara recoiled as if they had been slapped, stopping their babbling and staring at Frisk with wide eyes. Frisk took a breath and continued, "I can't… there's nothing I could say to her. Toriel and Asgore, they've wanted to know about you for so long. It doesn't matter if I call them, I can't think of anything I could say that would stop them."

Chara nodded, although they did not bring their head back up from the nod and instead let their chin rest against their chest. They chuckled to themself and turned their back on Frisk. "Heh, right, I almost forgot. I'm dead. What I want doesn't matter anymore, does it? _I_ don't matter. Hee hee hee…" They floated over to the corner of the room and turned sideways, curling into a little ball.

"Chara… Chara, come on, that's not what I meant. You do matter! I just-"

They stopped their giggle fit just long enough to spit, "Leave me alone. Don't you have anything better to do?"

The truth was, they did not. They took their time pulling off their shoes and laid on their bed, on top of the covers. They rested on their side so they could watch Chara. "It'll be okay," they said. They were sure of it. They meant it. Chara's whisper-quiet chuckles did not abate. But that was okay. They could stay here with them. Give them time to come back to themself. And if the laughs turned to sobs… Frisk would pretend not to hear, and never tell whether they did or not.

* * *

Martin had offered to drive her down, but Silas' condo was not far from downtown so she decided to walk instead. She was doing this more often lately, starting when the existence of monsters was confirmed. She would have to learn how to drive eventually, but it was not possible for her to do it now and she was content to put the time when she would have to learn as far into the future as possible. For now she enjoyed the feeling of grass underneath her paws, the clicking her claws made on the sidewalks, and most especially the brisk winds with the barest hints of the cold winter to come but with the promise that there was still some time before the frigid months arrived.

In a way it was amazing. Hardly a month ago all of the monsters were crammed into a single condo intended for only one or two people, not one of them able to step outside except under the strictest secrecy. Even afterward a simple walk down the road would earn her hurried glances and nervous stares. Now she was treated as any other housewife mulling about town on her errands, able to share friendly nods with passers-by and treated to the neighborhood gossip from storekeeps and cashiers. Most people probably would have taken the demotion from 'queen' to 'homemaker' with less enthusiasm. For Toriel, however, it was a long time coming. She had been a hellion in her youth, living fast as only those who knew they could not die ever would. After marrying Asgore she leaned hard into the role and took great pains to become a prim and proper queen. Asgore was lucky, having been born into royalty hundreds of years ago and thus never feeling insecure in his title. Toriel, however, had been born to commoners; she felt if she did not act as the ideal royal should she would never be accepted as one. It did not matter whether this was actually true, she felt it was and so it might as well have been true. After breaking their marriage cord and fleeing to the Ruins she had wanted to be just another woman, but the monsters would not let her. It was impossible for them to forget that she had once been their ruler by birthright, and so they could never be so disrespectful as to treat her as a true equal. A woman was all she was, now. She had meals to cook, a child to raise, and a home to keep. Thirty one years after the death of her children, after six failures to live the life of a simple mother, now all her responsibilities were owed purely to herself and her own. She could not have been happier.

There was one last debt owed. One last loose end and she could happily devote the next decades of her doubtlessly very long life entirely to Frisk.

She stopped on the sidewalk and double-checked the address Asgore had given her. She was at the right place, but somehow she had ended up at a laundromat instead of the new headquarters of the Monster Integration Committee. Oh, her note said the actual headquarters was on the second floor. She did not immediately see a staircase or ladder, but she supposed one may be on the reverse side away from the street-

"You must be Toriel."

She gasped at the voice, so she had no breath left when she turned to face who had spoken. For a fraction of a second she thought burying Chara had been a horrible nightmare, that they had somehow survived and lived to middle age to stand before her. The person in front of her had Chara's auburn hair, their tall forehead, their slight arrhythmia around the cheeks. But it was only for an instant; even if Toriel still had some trouble telling humans apart, the woman in front of her had shimmering green eyes instead of Chara's deep maroon ones. She recovered herself and gave a slight bow. "Y-yes, I am Toriel."

The woman returned the gesture. "I'm Carol, Carol Caroli." The woman was dressed in a white coat and a purple scarf, intended more for style than warmth. Her thin cut jeans clung tightly to her legs and her sneakers had a clean and stylish look. "The message said the office is on the second floor. Shall we go together?"

Stepping around the side of the building revealed an outdoor staircase leading up to the second floor. The door into the building had a paper sign taped to it to indicate it was the business office for "Monster Integration Committee (under renovations)". Toriel took the lead, opening the unlocked door and stepping through. She had to hunker down so her horns did not scrape against the ceiling. Panels of drywall were laid at an angle against one wall, and some of the original carpeting had not yet been torn up. Furnishings were very sparse, with only a few office chairs set up in a circle in the far room. Asgore sat in one of these chairs, his wide body spilling over both sides. It was a good thing none of the chairs had armrests or he would not be able to sit at all. As the two women came in he moved to stand up. "Oh! You must be Mrs. Caroli! Thank you for-" He was interrupted by a _pthunk_ sound as Asgore punctured the ceiling with his horns. He coughed as flakes of mineral fiber fell around him. "Ah, sorry. We have only recently purchased this space, and renovations are not yet complete. We plan on raising the ceilings, as well as remodel the floorplan. And, er, get some new furniture. Please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable. And you as well, Tori-el." He caught himself in time. He was learning.

Toriel and Carol both sat. Toriel could feel her face going rigid, caught herself falling into the well-worn habits of a queen. A part of her ached to be on the other side of that desk, beside Asgore. She silenced it; that part of her life was over.

Carol stepped into the silence to ask, "If your office isn't ready, why did you ask me to come here? Surely there are other places we could use or rent."

"There are few places available to us on such short notice," Asgore explained. "More importantly, there are none that would give us better privacy. I suspect you wish to tell us many things you do not wish revealed in public right away." He cast a meaningful glance at Toriel, a quiet look to ask for support. Toriel granted it with a nod; they had spoken about this when Asgore had first called to tell her about Carol and her visit to Weymouth. They were in perfect agreement on this issue, if nothing else. Asgore concluded, "And, there are things we wish to tell you that are dear and personal secrets. You may judge us as you wish, but we do not wish them to be revealed even to our fellow monsters."

Carol nodded sadly. "I… I see. Chara… did you treat them well? Were they happy?"

Toriel answered easily, "We took Chara into our home and loved them as though they were our own child. There are many things about them we never understood, but they were a joy to have. I… want to believe they were happy, for a time at least."

Carol accepted that answer. "Do you need some proof that I am who I say I am?"

"No," Asgore said quickly. "Just this morning we received word that there was a very high chance your sibling was Chara. We were considering how best to contact you when my secretary passed your message along. And, of course, you look so much like them. There is no doubt in my mind that you are Chara's sister."

She averted her eyes. "I see. If you did research, you must have found out my sibling went missing and was declared dead more than thirty years ago. You must have questions, about that and about how they ended up in the Underground. What drove them there. You should know, you are looking at the reason Chara fled to the mountain. I treated them horribly. Perhaps I was not the biggest straw but I was the last one. You may not have many kind words left for me once my story is finished."

"We will listen first and withhold judgment for afterward," Asgore promised. "Take as much time as you need. I cannot speak for Toriel but I have no other engagements today."

"I cleared out my schedule," Toriel confirmed. "Please, do not leave out any details."

Carol nodded, took a deep breath, and began.


	24. Driven

AN: The views depicted in this chapter are not intended to represent all or even a significant minority of Christians, and dehumanizing attitudes can be found among people of all faiths as well as people of no faith. I don't want to see any religion bashing in the comments this time. I would prefer not to turn review moderation on (among other things it plays merry hell with my email notifications) but I will if I need to.

WARNING: This chapter includes invasion of personal space and bodily autonomy, discussion of the Christian Bible, abuse, neglect, and many other terrible things happening to children. If you would rather not read Chara's backstory from chapter 20 of HtSaS but in significantly greater detail, skip down to the triple line breaks.

* * *

(Excerpts from Carol Caroli's autobiography _Driven_ , published in 204Y)

My younger sibling was born when I was only 2 years old. Our mother died in childbirth but the child survived. They were given a name, but from the moment they were old enough to make their opinions known they would never pass up on opportunity to say how much they hated their name. They did not like the sound of it, the length of it, and they considered it a bad omen considering what happened to their namesake in Greek myth (they were the one who taught the story to me, a sign of their intelligence and voracious appetite for knowledge). They did not come upon their true name until years later; in the dead of night they whispered the name of a star, Chara, and took it as their name. This was months after they came out as non-binary with disastrous consequences, which itself was a few months after Father died and we were sent to live with our grandparents on our father's side. Despite this I will be referring to them as 'Chara', even when the person I am quoting was using their deadname. It is the very least I can do for their memory.

They had a congenital condition called 'non-albino ruboculus', a condition which gave them striking red eyes. Sometimes I wonder whether such a tiny thing made all the difference, but no. Perhaps it would have taken longer, perhaps the details may have changed, but in the end it was not their eyes which doomed them. Babysitters and daycare professionals were courteous but wary about them. Other kids did not seem terribly inclined to play with them, nor Chara with them. At first I thought even babies knew Chara was different, but over time I realized Chara was an intensely private person. They enjoyed doing things on their own. "Does not play well with others" was a common refrain. They did not speak, not even to dad or me, until they were four years old. It was not a problem with understanding, they responded when called, knew the meanings of words, and once they did start speaking their vocabulary was immense. They simply did not have anything they wished to talk to others about. They were also wildly intelligent and curious, poking around things and trying to figure out how they worked with a determined ferocity. I remember being with dad as one of their minders told him in hushed and awed tones that she finally realized why baby Chara seemed so disgusted with the letter blocks; they were not just using them to learn the shapes of the letters or spell out words, they were trying to write out entire sentences and got frustrated when there were not enough blocks to complete the phrases. There was talk of sending them to a school for the gifted when they were older, talk that ended when dad passed away. I thought Chara was too young to understand death, but they asked me, "Dad is not coming back, right?" in a flat tone. When I confirmed this they nodded as though filing away an interesting fact about butterflies and never spoke of him again. They were five years old. I never learned what they thought about father, but I think they grew to miss him.

There was some talk about what was going to happen to us, talks in which we were never consulted and were not privy to until years later. The conclusion was that the rest of our family abandoned us to our grandparents, an act I have never forgiven them for and never shall. The publication of this book will likely mean they will never forgive me for airing the family's dirty laundry, but I am beyond caring. When you finish reading of my childhood perhaps you will feel the same.

Grandfather James came to pick us up at our old house. He was all awkward smiles and nervous laughter, trying to put us at ease in the way old folks do when they can no longer remember the difference between a toddler and a seven year old. Chara looked up at our grandfather questioningly. Their brow furrowed, evidently not liking what they saw, and I silently begged them to stay quiet. This was the first time in my memory of either of our grandparents ever seeing them, they desperately needed to make a good first impression. They sidled a half-step closer to me and let their gaze fall to their knees, but they obeyed my telepathic command.

"You must be Carol," Grandfather pointed at me. "Oh, you've grown so big since I've seen you last!" He opened up his arms for a hug and I stepped into them. Once he released me his smile became a little more plastic. "And… Chara. I don't believe we've met. I'm your grandfather, your father's father." He held his arms open but they refused to step into them.

"Chara doesn't like being touched," I apologized in their stead. "It's not anything personal… even I can't hug Chara most days."

"Nonsense!" Grandfather said, reaching out to envelop them. "We Pelham's are huggers! If she's going to live under this roof she'll have to learn to show some affection!" His hands locked behind their back. Chara's spine went completely straight and they went into an acute fear response: pupils dilated, teeth bared, knuckles clenched. They were trying hard to endure it but on top of everything else this was a bad day, one where ordinarily they would not tolerate a touch on the head or a held hand without protest.

"Come on!" he encouraged. "Aren't you going to hug your Grandpa back?"

Chara scrunched their face tight and slapped their arms around his neck. They held that pose for two seconds before releasing him, and he patted her on the back once before standing back up. "See? That wasn't so bad, heh heh heh! Come on! The car's waiting!"

Chara looked back up to me with a weak smile. 'I did it,' they were trying to say. 'I made a good impression, right?' Something about that smile should have told me this was a mistake. That nothing good could come from going with him. But what else could we do?

The house was thin and two stories, built near the crest of a hill and nestled away from the street. There was no driveway and the front door was on the opposite side from the road; Grandpa parked against the curb and we had to walk down the entire length of the house to get inside. The windows were so speckled with dust it was hard to see through them from the outside. Once inside what would become my home for the next eleven years I was struck immediately by the scent of mothballs and stale flowers. The lighting was poor throughout all the rooms, giving everything a gloomy look. The wallpaper was aged to the color of witch's teeth, and the carpets were matted where they were not afflicted by mange. This was where we met Avril, my grandmother, for the first time. If the meeting with Grandfather was troubling, the meeting with Grandmother could hardly have gone worse. The moment she saw Chara she gasped and her hand flew across her chest to make the sign of the cross. This puzzled Chara and this time they did not stay silent. "What was that? The thing with your hands, what does that mean?"

Grandmother blinked in dull horror. "You… don't know what it is? Haven't you ever been to church, little girl?!"

Chara shook her head but did not elaborate. I answered in their stead, "Dad never had time, he always had to catch up on work on the weekends."

"Is that _so?_ Well! That all explains so much, doesn't it?" She sniffed and turned on her heel, not even giving us the dignity of a real introduction.

"Oh, don't mind her," Grandfather said. "She's still a little mad… your father cut us out of his adult life, you know. Never gave us an explanation. So you can blame him for us not being a part of your lives before." He looked to the side and added in a lower volume, "And the two of us, we really liked our son's wife, your mother. And… well, she doesn't think a daughter-in-law for another granddaughter was a good trade. She'll warm up to little Chara in time, don't you worry!" But I was worried. I did not know mother well, but I had memories of warmth and beauty and happiness. Could Chara really replace mother in Grandma Avril's heart? Was that even a fair thing to ask of them?

[…]

It was obvious to anyone who spent more than a few minutes with Chara that they had a different way of thinking than other kids. They did not have much concept of authority nor any filter between their brain and their mouth. This did little to ingratiate them with our grandparents. People would not put up with insubordination like that for long, especially from a five year old. I knew it would be my job to protect Chara: making excuses, smoothing things over, stop them from going too far. I usually succeeded. Sometime I did not. Once, when I was trying to convince Grandmother into letting me go to a sleepover party with friends from school, I tried to tell her that everyone else was going to be there. She used the adage "If everyone else jumped off a cliff would you jump too?" to discourage my friends from influencing me, but Chara's response was an immediate, "Maybe she should, there's something behind her they're trying to get away from." I was unable to stifle a giggle in time, and Grandmother was in such a foul mood afterward I had no chance of going to the party.

Another time we were walking to the convenience store and passed a beggar on the street. He asked for spare change and Grandfather waved him off without even looking at him and claimed to have none. Chara looked back at the beggar, their brow furrowed. They pulled at Grandfather's hand and insisted, "You have money. Why did you lie?"

"I worked hard for my money," Grandfather sniffed. "I don't have to give it away to some layabout if I don't want to."

"But Jesus says we're supposed to care about the poor," they insisted. "Was he wrong?"

"No, that guy's just lazy. He's looking for a handout. God helps those who help themselves. If he isn't going to get a job and work for his money then he doesn't deserve my charity."

"How curious," they said in that way that suggested their opinion of the person they were speaking with had dropped sharply. "If you get to decide who is and isn't deserving, what's to stop you from saying everyone is undeserving?"

Even I was unsure whether Chara was earnestly having a moral quandary or mocking their guardian. I insisted to Chara that it was more complicated than it seemed and would make sense when they got older. Chara ceased their questioning but they still had a haughty, holier-than-thou look in their eyes. Grandfather grumbled and shook his head, frowning for the rest of our trip. It was clear I failed to either satisfy Chara or mollify Grandfather.

But the very worst event was the one which clearly precipitated everything that would go wrong. Our grandparents were having people over, other members of the family, and they wanted to show off what a good job they were doing with raising us. I realized how very important it was for this to go well, so I got ready without a fuss. Chara, however…

"Chara!" Grandmother shouted. "Stop squirming and let me put your dress on!"

"No! I don't want to wear a dress!" They wriggled and fought, and I could hear the seams of the fabric struggling against the strength of a recalcitrant five year old. Chara was sitting on their bed in the bedroom we shared. I was sitting on my own bed, already dressed and watching the fight between my sibling and my grandmother without quite knowing who I should have been supporting.

Grandma tried again to shove the garment over Chara's head with no more success than her previous attempts. "Your aunts and uncles will be here in ten minutes! We don't have the time to deal with your… your willfullness!" She stopped and glared at me. "Carol!" I started, realizing I had been staring. "Go brush your hair, you're old enough to do it yourself now!"

Eager to get away from Grandmother in a bad mood, I fled into the bathroom for a brief moment of respite. I kept my hair long back then, so it took some time to brush it well. When I got out and headed back for the bedroom to see whether Grandmother was having any greater luck I instead nearly ran into her as she left the room. She stared straight through me; her face was calm but she was visibly shaking. I stepped out of her way and watched her go down the hallway and down the stairs, acting as though she had not noticed me. I crept back into the bedroom, feeling like my internal organs had turned into water.

Chara was sitting on the bed, still not wearing the dress, but they were quite changed from when I left. Their smile had thinned. Their eyes were wide and they were trembling in place, hands gripping the sheets of their bed. "I'm sorry sis," they said.

I wanted to ask what they had done but I managed to soften that to, "What happened?"

They swallowed and pulled their legs onto the bed to hug their knees. "I-it slipped out. She… she asked if I wanted to be a pretty girl and… and I told her I wasn't a girl." She began rocking back and forth as my organs drained out through my feet like a flushed toilet. "Andandandthen, she got mad and asked if I was s-stupid enough to think I was a boy, and I said no. She said I was confused and didn't know anything." She looked at me seriously with wet eyes. "I… I didn't think. And I said some things. And… she stopped yelling. She didn't scream or cry or look at me. She… said that I should stay in my room and not come down at all. And then she stormed off."

"Chara!" I shouted. "I told you! You had to keep that a secret!" Though born with a girl's body, from the time they were four Chara had never once felt like one. I was at that time unsure what it meant, thinking it was just another expression of their strangeness. While father was accepting of his 'non-gender-conforming' child, I knew our grandparents would not understand and would not try to understand. That was why I was very insistent that they not talk about it in front of them. If they could have stayed in the closet until we were both old enough to be out from under their thumb I thought it would be best. But now…

"I know," they said with a thin smile. "I know, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

I wish I could say I swallowed my anger and comforted them. But though it would make me appear magnanimous and kind-hearted, it would not be the truth. At the time all I could think of was that now I had to deal with all these adults swarming the house all by myself. I would have to take Chara's portion of pinched cheeks and condescending smiles as well as my own. The next few hours were going to be a nightmare, and Chara had found a way to avoid it all. I growled, "At least you got what you wanted. You don't have to put on that dress," and stomped out of the room. If Chara said something to my back I did not hear it.

[…]

A few days later some large men we had never seen before arrived. Grandma acted like she had been expecting them and sent Chara and I out to the backyard while they were "working". We played in the yard for a while, then sat down and talked when we got too tired to keep running around. An hour, perhaps two, passed. Chara was in the middle of telling me about how adding "dynamite" to paper-rock-scissors was a terrible rule which threw off the entire balance of the game when Grandpa called out from the window, "Carol? Please come join us in the dining room." He shut the window before waiting for a reply. It was a command, not a request.

Chara and I looked at each other. "We might as well see what they want," I told them.

They shrugged. "Why do I have to come? They didn't call me." They scooted back and forth, trying to form a little divot in the grass for their bum to settle into comfortably.

"It's probably about school," I said. "You might as well, it'll save time if they talk to you now instead of waiting." Chara saw the wisdom in this and nodded. They had always wanted to hear more about what school was like ever since I started going the previous year. They were not terribly interested in hearing about my friends and what we did during recess, but they found the idea of specific blocks of time carved out to study particular subjects fascinating. For a long time Chara would read books and report on anything they learned like a sage delivering wisdom, and I found that they were just as enthused a student as they were a teacher. They were excited about going into kindergarten next month.

When we came back inside both of our grandparents were sitting at the dining room table with grave expressions. The burly men were gone, as was the truck they arrived in. I pulled out a chair for Chara and then myself, my eyes never leaving the two of them. They watched me without saying a word or changing their grim expressions. "You wanted to see me?" I asked.

Grandma sighed deeply. "Carol, I have some sad news to give you. Your grandfather and I have discussed the matter and we agreed it would be best to tell you right away. You may not understand at first, but it is very important that you listen to us. Not just your life, but your soul is at stake." Her gaze bored into me, like she was peering deep into my mind. I waited as she paused for dramatic effect. "Carol… your sister is dead.

Chara and I looked at each other. Was this a joke? Grandma was not the type of person to make jokes, and it was clear Chara both was neither in on this prank nor did they find it funny. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "Chara's right-"

"She died a long time ago," Grandma bulldozed over my objection. "Indeed, you've never known your sister. At the moment of her birth a wicked demon took her place and has been lurking right under your nose ever since. Not only did the demon take your sister away, but it killed your mother and father, one right after another. And if you keep showing it kindness, if you treat it as though it were your sister and fail to recognize it for what it is, it will kill you too."

Chara did not gasp in fright. They did not scream or cry or stamp their foot, either. They were not, and never had been, prone to emotional outbursts. I saw the color leave their cheeks and their eyes fill with tears, but that was all. "That's not true," they said quietly, shaking their head. "That's ridiculous. Sis, why are they saying these-"

" _Carol!_ " Grandma shouted, slapping her palm on the table to get my attention. "Don't listen to it. Don't talk to it. Don't even look at it! Look at me, Carol. It has been pretending to be a human ever since your mother died. If you call it by your sister's name or so much as _think_ of it as your sister, it will gain power over you. It will siphon your spirit away, little by little, until you are so weak it can snatch your soul and gobble it right up. Don't you think it's odd the way your father died? Perfectly healthy, until suddenly he wasn't? That's what happened to him! I don't want you to suffer the same fate. We may seem cruel but we are honestly looking out for you. So you will not speak to the demon. You will ignore it no matter what it says or does. This is the only way you can stay safe."

I blinked at her numbly, unable to follow the words she was using but understanding perfectly what she was asking of me. A part of me did not want to believe what she meant but it was unavoidable to grasp what she really meant. She wanted me to forsake my sibling. I was being asked to abandon Chara. She leaned in and repeated, "Promise me!" I would not receive a third chance.

I waggled my fingers underneath the table to get Chara's attention. I could see their head bob in my peripheral vision so I gave them the only sign I could: I crossed my fingers. I could only hope Chara understood it for what it was, the symbol of a false oath. "I promise, Grandma," I said flatly.

Grandma watched me carefully for a moment, letting me stew. Chara had also stopped shouting. I was unsure which would be worse: if Grandma did not believe what I said or if Chara did. Finally Grandmother said, "Good. Just remember, if you ignore my warnings and the demon steals your soul, you only have yourself to blame for what will happen next. Now, go upstairs to your room. Don't come down until I tell you. Not you!" This last command was aimed at Chara and accompanied with an accusing finger. They had slipped out of their seat at the same time I did. "You stay there. We have some things to discuss." She turned toward me. "Well? Off with you."

I slunk away from the table, afraid to meet her gaze or even breathe too loud. I snuck one last look at Chara before disappearing down the hall and found they were looking back at me. They were still smiling, but their eyes were forlorn and pleading. I mouthed "sorry" and "we'll talk later", and though they did not so much as acknowledge it I knew they understood.

On my way up the stairs I strained my ears to listen in on what my grandparents might have been saying to Chara, but either they were speaking too softly or they were waiting until I was safely ensconced in my room before they began. Almost in a daze I opened the door to the bedroom Chara and I shared…

… and found it changed. It was no longer a bedroom for a pair of siblings. Now it was an only child's room. Only one bed, mine, remained. Chara's bed, their dresser, their toys and books and games and everything else which had belonged to them was gone. Where had everything gone? The attic? It was not spacious enough for everything. The basement? It had been stuffed full of boxes and other junk since the moment we arrived, they could not have cleared that much space by themselves. So where was Chara supposed to sleep? Suddenly I gasped in horror; the men from before. They were movers. Chara's things… they weren't anywhere anymore. They had been taken away.

I collapsed to my knees, not even able to cry. How could they? To their own grandchild! This was much too far for a joke or prank, they were trying to erase my sibling from existence!

I did not see Chara at all afterwards, but I kept careful watch of the street until I was allowed out of my room. No one came and no one left… they had to be around somewhere. I had to keep track of where Grandmother was; if she saw me she would undoubtedly figure out who I was searching for and become angry. I was not even sure what I would do if I did find Chara.

I slipped up, however, and was caught by Grandfather. "No use lookin'," he said. "If she's smart, she's staying out of the way. Your grandmother is very angry with her. I pleaded with your Granny to be patient, but if Chara won't meet us halfway after all this time… well, we tried doing it my way. Now we're doing it her way."

"But," I protested. "That stuff she was saying… about Chara being a demon? You don't really believe that, do you?"

His expression hardened, squeezing out any trace of kindness I had ever seen in him. His voice made it clear he would brook no argument. "What I believe, is that girl needs to learn some respect. Your father did the best he could, but children need to grow up with rules and discipline. They're not going to get that from a working single father. You're okay, clearly our daughter-in-law raised you right, but your sister… if this is what it takes to pound her into a good girl then so be it. She'll thank us for it. Mark my words, you'll both thank us some day."

[…]

What followed makes me sick in my heart to recall it. Chara was to stay out of the way at all times. They were not allowed to leave the house during the daytime, but would be harshly punished if either of my grandparents so much as caught sight of them. They were not allowed to eat with us at the table, but some portion of food was left for them around the corner like they were a dog. And that was when they remembered; sometimes they left no food out for them at all, and they were forced to boldly raid the fridge after everyone else had fallen asleep and nurse their empty stomach in the meantime. Even the smallest missteps were punished harshly; either by a paddling, or by what came to be known as "exorcisms".

I was only ever able to talk to them late at night, after everyone else had fallen asleep. I would tell them of the world outside the house, my school and my lessons and my friends. Eventually, when Chara started leaving the house at night, they would tell me about books they read from the library or things they learned from the library's computers. I urged them not to give up hope, that Grandmother would surely change her mind. But in my heart I was unsure. If they were capable of this kind of cruelty in the first place, how long could they continue it for?

Only once, I managed to gather enough courage to place an anonymous tip to Child Services. What happened next was disgusting; a visit was scheduled, and they dressed everyone up as part of a happy family. I was threatened with harsh punishments if I stepped out of line, and I was sure Chara was too. They had an answer for every question; Chara had behavioral problems so it was best for them and other children not to attend kindergarten. They did not have a bed because they would rip open the mattress and eat the stuffing. They were a very picky eater and that's why they looked so thin. The social worker swallowed it all without ever speaking to Chara or myself. I knew then it was foolish to expect help from anyone. If Chara was going to survive this nightmare, I was the only person they could truly rely on.

[…]

Chara lasted over a year. To this day I don't know how they were able to put up with their treatment for so long, but even their endurance had limits. One night while my grandparents were watching the news and I was doing homework, Chara trudged into the living room. I was about to warn them about what they were doing but one glance was all it took to silence me. I had never seen them looking like this. So beaten and frail. They would not even look at me, or lift their head. They swayed in place as though being blown about by a wind too soft for me to feel. "Grandma Avril," they called out in a tiny, broken voice. "I'm… I'm sorry. For being a bad girl. I was wrong. I'll do whatever you say from now. And… and I was wrong for not calling myself a girl. I'll be a girl from now on and not ever talk back or argue."

They meant it, too. They had finally been beaten down beyond the point of resistance. I felt something in my heart break. Some part of Chara had changed, deep down inside, and they would never be the same. Not ever.

Avril shook her head with a tiny smile without looking away from the television. "It's not 'you'll _be_ a girl'. You _are_ a girl."

"That's what I meant!" Chara said, their legs splaying out to run in any direction. Their lower lip trembled and their eyes opened wide. "I-I'm a girl, that's what I meant, so-"

Grandmother sighed and walked over to them with deliberate slowness, her every footfall sounding like it was walking down death row. "And do you remember what I told you, about talking out of turn? If you're getting so bold as to break my rules, clearly the demon is getting stronger. Well, I know how to fix that…"

"No!" Chara shouted just as Grandmother's hand gripped them by the forearm. "Please, no, not that, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I just wanted-" Chara pulled at her fingers and shrieked, their screams punctuated by sobs.

Grandmother turned toward her husband and told him dryly, "Get the tub ready, dear, I think they're going to be extra lively this time."

I stood up from the chair, moving without thinking. "Grandma, stop."

She did not miss a beat. "Carol, you sit back down," she instructed. I was instantly frozen in place; I did not dare to even breathe with the full focus of her ire upon me. "It's for her own good, soon enough you'll have your sister back. Not long now, so just be patient. Come along, demon." She dragged Chara up the steps, Chara stomping and flailing the whole way. Still I could not move, even to go to my sibling's aid.

That night Chara tried to kill themself. I only found out about it the next night, when Chara came to me and their wrist was heavily bandaged. I don't know why their attempt failed, or what they used, or what my grandparents did to them for attempting suicide. I never got the whole story. I slept through the whole thing, and Chara never talked about it. Afterward something changed in Chara. They were more physically and emotionally affectionate toward me than ever, clinging onto me at night with desperate hope. I felt like I was their one pillar of support in all the world.

[…]

One night I was woken up by a heavy knock on the front door. I heard my grandparents wake up and come downstairs. I heard muffled voices, them and another voice I had never heard before. Suddenly Chara's voice pierced through the walls and shattered the calm: "No!"

I was instantly awake. I held my breath to try and hear more clearly. I could not make out what anyone was saying but Chara sounded frantic. The door closed and I heard a car driving off. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs followed by the bathtub turning on and I released my breath with a sob. Through the wall I shared with the bathroom I heard Grandmother reading out Bible verses. I knew that while she was doing this Grandpa held Chara's head underneath the water. They called this an "exorcism", and promised one day it would return my sister to me. I knew what it really was; a cruel punishment for when Chara broke the rules.

I lay in my bed for a long while, as I usually did when this happened. I hid and cried into my pillow, apologizing to Chara that there was nothing I could do for them. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it felt like the exorcism went on for much longer than normal that night. At one point Grandma's recitation stopped in mid-verse, and the splashes of water were in a different pattern than usual. I heard my grandparents talking in hushed and hurried voices. They sounded almost panicked. I did not hear Chara's voice at all, or even sounds of their struggling. Then both of them left the bathroom, rushing downstairs for… something. I never learned what. I pushed back the covers and crept out of bed, intrigued but also intensely worried. I had a very bad feeling about this.

The bathroom light was still on. I peeked around the corner and gasped in horror. Chara was lying on the linoleum floor, their wrists still bound behind their back with a length of rope. Their whole body was wet and slick, their threadbare clothes stuck to their skin. Their normally fair skin had turned a sickening shade of pale blue. They were absolutely still: their eyelids did not twitch or flutter, their hands hung limply in their bonds, even the steady rhythm of their chest rising and falling had ceased. It was impossible to misread the situation. My grandparents had finally done it. They had killed Chara.

"No!" I shouted and ran over to them. I knew what could save them. I had only seen this done in movies, I had no idea what I was doing, but I had to do something! I tilted their head back, then I put my hands together over the center of their chest, just above their stomach. I pushed as hard as I could. Was I going too slow? Too fast? Could a ten year old have enough strength? I did not have time for doubts. Push, push, push. If I ever wanted to see my sibling alive again, I had no choice. I had to do it.

I later learned a thousand and one things could have gone wrong. I could have been pushing at the wrong spot, I could have pushed hard enough to break their breastbone, I could have failed to have gotten all the water out of their lungs and saved them only to helplessly watch them succumb to pneumonia over the next few weeks. It was probably the greatest miracle in my life, with less of a chance of happening than even fulfilling the dream of little girls all around the world and becoming a Hollywood star. But after I don't know how long, Chara twitched. Their whole body spasmed and I hurriedly spun them stomach down. They coughed and wretched, spewing water all over the bathroom floor for what must have been only seconds but felt like years. When it was over they simply laid there, coughing over and over again to get the last drops of water out of their system.

I moved them into my room afterward. I tried to put them in my bed but Chara refused to take it, using all their strength to roll out of the bed. I made a little nest out of spare blankets on the floor and they accepted a place there. I gave Chara food when they could handle it and let them rest when they could not. My grandparents never said a thing about it. I think they realized that if Chara died that night there would have been no hiding it; everything would have been all over for them.

On the second day of their convalescence they told me what had happened. They had been so happy to find the library months ago, so pleased to be able to read the books and browse the internet and learn and do things for the first time since being branded a demon. I was unsure whether Grandma and Grandpa even knew what they were doing late at night. But that night their luck finally ran out. They had been caught. Rather than admitting she was leaving a window open for Chara to use, the librarian claimed Chara had sneaked into the library secretly and may have been planning to steal books. The police brought them home. Grandma was beyond furious; having the police show up at their door in the middle of the night was a humiliation she would not bear. And then… that.

"I hate them," Chara rasped when their story was done. "Those two, they aren't human. Nothing's ever good enough. They want to kill me, they want me to die."

I wanted to tell them that was not true, but I had watched for nearly two years. I knew Grandmother would not stop, even if Chara died. That two days had passed and she had said nothing about the incident was proof; she was unwilling or incapable of self-reflection. She still, _still_ , thought she was right. And she would go right back to her old ways, even after that terribly close call, as soon as Chara was better.

"I wish they'd die," they seethed. "If God exists, He should make them suffer. He should come down and grab them and shake them and hold them underwater and spank them and set them on fire so they burn and die!" They tried to say more but their body was wracked with a series of coughs which sapped the life out of them.

"Chara, please. Keep your voice down. You don't want them to hear you."

"Maybe I do," they said in the same broken voice I had not heard since they came into the living room that night. "Maybe I should let them kill me. It would be better than this. I can't do this anymore." They shook their head and stared at nothing. Their gaze was focused on something very far away, looking into a land only those with one foot already in the grave can see. I was losing them. They were fading away before my eyes. I was the one who failed and they would be the one to suffer for it.

"I'll save you," I said without thinking. "I'll save us both. I-I'll look things up, and make a plan and… and we'll run away! Go somewhere else, find new parents so we can be happy!" It was a crazy and stupid plan, but in the heat of the moment it was all I could think up. "I don't care if they catch me and… and start treating me the way they treat you," I said, and at that moment I really did not. "I can't let them do this to you. What kind of sister would I be if I let this happen? Just… please, hang on a little longer. Let me make a plan for what we'll do and how we'll survive. I'll save you, for sure."

They stared at me for a long while. There was just enough moonlight pouring into the room for me to see the contours of their face and the trail their tears followed on their journey from their eyes to the pillow. It was too dark even to see the red in their eyes; the color was merely dark, with no visible hue. The corners of their lips turned up the tiniest bit. "Okay," they said with no more volume than a kitten's breath. But they might as well have screamed for all the world to hear.

There was still time. I had not lost them yet.

* * *

The end came a short time later. I was upset about school, I don't remember what about anymore. Maybe it was a poor test grade, or maybe it was drama with my friends, or some other silly thing. Whatever it was, I was in a bad mood when I came home. I stomped my way up down the walkway lined with trees. I slammed the front door behind me and kicked off my shoes without undoing the laces. I tore my backpack off my shoulders with a grunt and pitched it to the side. I had not taken two more steps when I heard something shatter. I turned to look and all my anger left me. My bookbag had skidded across the floor and collided with a stand. It must have hit hard enough to shake the stand, as the vase which was on top of it had tumbled and crashed to the floor. I did not have enough time to think up an excuse; just as the weight of how much trouble I was in settled on my shoulders Grandmother made her appearance, summoned by the noise. She surveyed the crime scene with a clinical eye, poking at my bag with her toe. "Oh dearie me," she chirped. "Carol, is this your bookbag?"

I swallowed. "Yes, Grandma. I was careless and knocked it over. I'm sorry."

Grandma clicked her tongue, smiling softly as though she were putting an infant to bed. "Oh, Carol. If apologies could fix everything there would be no need for laws. I really liked that vase. It was a gift from someone who's dead now. Even if I bought one just like this one it wouldn't be the same. It was irreplaceable. Terrible, truly terrible…"

I felt my breathing grow short. My heart felt like is was somewhere in my shoes. "I-I know. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. She began walking around me in a slow circle while I stood rooted to the spot. "Why are you apologizing? Only a true fiend could do something like this to something I cared so much about. I know you had nothing to do with it. If you did, why, it would mean you had been killed and replaced by a demon. It would mean you had been speaking with the demon behind my back, after I explicitly told you not to. That after I warned you over and over, you ignored my warnings and treated that evil creature with kindness. I would have to pull you out of school, throw away all your toys and jewelry and pretty dresses, and I would have to lock you up and never let you leave the house again."

My head felt light. I was breathing in ragged gasps. My whole body felt hot. I clutched at the hem of my skirt in a death grip and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably.

She continued, "And, of course, I would have to punish you. You know, the switches and the paddles. And the exorcisms, we mustn't forget those. I would do it. I would have no choice. It would be the only way to bring you back. Do you understand? I love you and only want what's best for you. I would do anything to keep you safe."

I did not doubt her. She absolutely would do that, I had more than enough proof over the last two years. All my friends from school, I would never see them again. I would never sit and eat a meal at a table or sleep in a bed again. My life would be over. Not just figuratively; I knew exactly the kind of life she was promising, and I know I could not live like that. I would die if I had to live like that!

By this time she had completed two full circles around me and was standing in front of me again. She leaned down and put a finger under my chin, pulling my head up to look at her. She was still smiling, so calmly and peacefully, her words not matching her actions. "But you are a good girl," she said with cloying sweetness. "So I know it wasn't you. There's only one being in this house it could have been. I know you don't feel any sympathy toward it, because you're a good girl who follows my rules. So just tell me the truth, Carol. It was not you who bumped the table and broke the vase." She leaned close to me, I could feel her breath on my face. "Tell me what really broke it."

I wasn't thinking at all. I was so scared of what would happen, so terrified of losing all my rights and privileges, that I was hardly even aware of what she was asking. All I knew is that I was being offered a lifeline, a way to escape the terrible fate that stretched out before me, and I took it without a second thought. "It was the demon!" I cried. "The demon broke it!"

Grandma nodded. She kissed my forehead tenderly and wiped the tears from my cheek. "You are a good girl," she said. "Such a good girl." She rose to her full height and called out the name. Not Chara, but the name Chara hated all their life and hated even more now that it was used by my grandparents as a curse. The name Grandma only used when they wanted Chara to come to her.

I heard footsteps behind me and whirled around. Chara walked briskly past me with a thin smile. Their hands were balled into fists and they shook with barely suppressed rage. I realized for them to come that quickly… they had to have been standing nearby the entire time. They saw it all…

Grandma sighed. "So, demon. Do I need to explain anything to you? Do you understand how things are now?" Chara shook their head no and Grandma nodded. "Good. Then I won't have to waste my time. You know what comes next. Come along." She held out her hand and Chara took it without complaint. Chara then turned her back on me as the two of them walked off. I wanted them to scream in defiance, I wanted them to call me names, I wanted them to toss a final hateful glare over their shoulder as they were led off to take their punishment in my stead. But Chara did not even look at me. Like I was dead to them.

A few moments later I heard the bathtub running and I collapsed. A failure. I was a failure. I was the kind of child who would sell out their own sibling for material comfort. What good was my school, or my friends, or my life, if they were built on the suffering of the only real family I had left? I buried my face into my hands and wailed.

[…]

That night I stayed up longer than I ever had before. I strained my ears waiting for the slightest creak of a door, the tiniest thump of bare feet on floorboards, any scrap that revealed Chara's presence. Every time I began to fall asleep I could see their eyes, burning with indignation and betrayal. The searing hate I had coming flooded into me and I would wake again in a snap. I waited in the darkness for a very long time, so long that I had begun to give up hope they would come. Finally I heard the doorknob turn and the door open. Chara quietly crept inside. But they did not go to my bedside; instead they made a turn for the dresser. I heard a drawer open and they began rummaging around inside with purpose.

"Chara?" I called out plaintively. Their sounds did not stop. "I'm sorry." Still no response. "I didn't mean to blame everything on you, I was scared. If she pulled me out of school and never let either of us leave there would be no hope for either of us. You're still my sibling. I still love you." The drawer closed. Chara's feet, now clad in socks, made hardly any noise at all as they walked back to the door. "Chara! Say something!"

They did not. The door closed, and Chara was gone. I swallowed hard. I had never seen Chara act like this. They must have been angry, no, furious. My head sunk into the pillow. I knew they would not return that night. I could only wait until the next night to try again.

The next day I did not see even the slightest trace of Chara. The grandparents noted offhand that 'the demon' had taken several drinks and quite a bit of food, and reasoned they had holed up somewhere and had no intention of being seen. I did not see or hear Chara that night. Or the next night. By this time we had all realized even Chara was not this good at hiding. Chara had clearly left the house with no intention of ever returning. How would they explain that a child in their care ran off three days ago and they had not noticed? By this time even I had gotten rumblings that Child Services were keeping a close eye on the Pelhams, and such callous disregard for their own grandchild would not go unremarked upon. But if Chara was found dead and they had not reported the disappearance, how much worse would that look for them? They must have discussed what they would do that night, because the next morning, the third since Chara's disappearance, they had a plan.

I was sick with worry for Chara, so concerned I could not even care that it was Saturday. But my grandparents were all smiles, insisting we take a boat trip. "All of us," they repeated several times. I personally had no stomach for such a thing, but was forced along. We drove all the way to the beach and rented a small motorboat. We kept going further, far away and out of sight of land. Once we were a fair distance away from the shore they took turns climbing out of the boat and into the water, getting themselves wet from toe to tip. They did not allow me to join them; when I so much as made a sound Grandpa's stony face and Grandma's icy glare convinced me to remain silent. Once they were both soaked Grandpa took a spare child-size life vest and tossed it out onto the water. After making sure it floated they turned around and headed back to shore, leaving the vest there.

Just as we were about to make dock, Grandma grabbed me by the arm. "Listen good," she told me. "Start crying. Your best tears, as real as you can make them. Don't answer any questions, just keep crying until we get home. You know what will happen if you don't." I obeyed, not understanding the reason why it was so important to do this for her but knowing what awaited me if I did not appease her. Then her own face melted into one of extreme distress, one that would have looked completely genuine to an outside observer. Grandfather hopped off the boat as soon as we approached the dock and waved down an attendant.

Before the attendant could get a word in Grandfather flailed, "Sir, sir! It's terrible! My granddaughter, Chara… she's been lost at sea! We tried to rescue her but she slipped out of her lifevest… we couldn't find her, we just couldn't find her! Her body… it sank! My granddaughter, my granddaughter…!"

And I did cry. Truly, honestly, sincerely. I cried as hard as I could, harder than when Mom died, harder even than when Dad died. I realized what was going on; in order to avoid culpability, my grandparents faked Chara's death. Chara would stay missing forever, but no one would be looking for them. Instead they would be searching the ocean for a body that would never appear.

Chara was gone. My only sibling had vanished and was never coming back. And it was my fault. I let them down. Worse than that, I betrayed them. The last memory I would ever have of them would be them hating me. I deserved their hatred. That and so much worse. I deserved it all. If only I had not turned on them. If only I had been a bit braver at the moment it mattered. My failure cost my only sibling their life.

* * *

"I killed them!" Carol sobbed into her hands. She had maintained her composure while telling the story, crying silent tears but keeping her voice steady, but as soon as the tale was done she could hold back no longer. "I was their only friend, their only hope, and I crushed them! If it weren't for me they never would have run away, they never would have died, it's all my fault!"

Toriel, too, listened to the story with steadily mounting shock and horror but kept herself under control. At this final display she stood up with enough force to knock her chair over. She strode over to Carol and enveloped her in a hug. "You were a _child_ ," Toriel insisted. "You could not understand what was being done or what consequences your actions would have. It is a terrible thing, but please, you must not blame yourself."

"Indeed," Asgore said, blowing his nose. Unlike the two women he had bawled openly at several points throughout Carol's confession. At this point he was all cried out, his paws resting heavily on the desk when they were not bringing tissues to his face. "We always knew that Chara's life on the surface had been unhappy. The scale of it, however… it is, truly breathtaking. I am unsure, even now, if I grasp all of it. But I do not doubt that you did the best you could with what you had. You, too, were a victim of these people. James and Avril Pelham…"

"Yes," Toriel said, the air around her shimmering. "Those people. Tell me, Ms. Caroli, where are they now?"

Carol shook her head with a sniffle. "They are… beyond any earthly punishment."

"Dead?" Asgore asked.

"Grandpa James is dead," Carol confirmed. "Three years ago. Grandma Avril… she has a wasting illness, not of the body but of the mind. I had her put in a home after James died. I get updates on her condition; it's past the point where any improvement is expected or possible. She doesn't remember who I am anymore, let alone the red-eyed child she drove out of her house. Ha, the nurse said she threw away the last present I sent her; she doesn't even remember what a gift is anymore. She does not remember her crimes, and so she has become immune to them. What good would it do to accuse her of evil she has no memory of committing?"

Toriel bared her teeth, but held her hug so Carol would not see them. It was an insult for such cruelty to go unanswered! Intense hatred boiled up inside her, left with no outlet.

"Oh," Carol squeezed out. "You're… quite strong, Ms. Toriel."

Toriel released Carol with a gasp. "I am sorry! I… lost control of myself for a moment. Please, be assured, I meant what I said. I… cannot speak for Chara. I, at least, do not blame you for what happened."

"Nor do I," Asgore said. "I am glad you came to us. It wasn't an easy story to hear. To be honest, I'm not sure whether I'm better off for hearing it. But we had to know. And if you do not wish for this to come out-"

"No," Carol said. "No, it has been secret for long enough. We can announce it together. Say that the 'Chara' that fell into the underground has been found. Present my part in the story, as well as my grandparents. The only vengeance we can offer Chara's spirit is for the names of their tormentors to be recognized for what they are."

"We can do that tomorrow," Toriel insisted. "But for today it is only fair for you to be told what became of Chara."

"Yes," Carol said, gripping one hand in the other. "You said they had a good life underground, but I would like to hear more of it. How did they live? And… and how did they die?"

So it was Toriel and Asgore's turn to tell a few stories. They were happy stories of kindness and love, but with an overlying sense of loss. One story turned into another, until they reached the last story. The one so secret and shameful that not even the monster knew it. A story of darkness, of guilt, of pain and loss they could not have known how to avoid even if they had known of everything that led to it, and the tragedy which followed.

In short, Asgore and Toriel told Carol a story about buttercups.


	25. Adventures in Babysitting

The way Marty saw it, nobody ever talked about the implicit lie at the heart of the American Dream: not everyone could be a factory owner. Not everyone could be a movie star. Not everyone could be a land baron. The world needed clerks and salespeople and plumbers and factory workers and the hundreds of jobs that kept civilization as we know it functioning but never get a word of thanks. The world could no more survive without garbagemen as it could survive without lawyers. There was a kind of dignity in doing the unglamorous jobs society required to function. Not that Martin cared much about dignity. If pressed he would claim he never gave it much thought, it simply never made sense for him to chase after money. After all, the Pembrookes were loaded and Silas was one of the biggest sourpusses he had ever seen. What good was all that money if it never made you happy? Marty considered himself superior to hedge fund managers making hundreds of times his income, because he enjoyed life and they lived only to set a new high score with their bank account numbers. True, a streaming celebrity on the internet probably was not as vital to the functioning of society the way lots of other jobs were, but thanks to the massive bump in popularity given to him by the monsters he was able to live comfortably doing what he loved. And wasn't that the point of it all in the end? So if one of his good friends asked him to do a favor, he was usually willing to help out. This went double if it meant he got to hang out with other people, and triple if it meant kids. You had to get them young, before they got introduced to "responsibility" and "consequences" and other stuff that sucked all the fun out of life.

He knocked on the door of Frisk's room. "Hey, Frisk?" A lively "Hm?" informed him it was safe to open the door.

Frisk was lying on the bed, shoes off but still in their clothes from school. Their backpack was propped up against a wall, looking like it had not been touched since Frisk arrived. "What's up, Mr. Conway?"

He felt like he aged twenty years with that one phrase. "Eeeyugh, please Frisky, I'm way too young to be a 'Mr.' anything. Soooo it looks like that meeting Toriel's having with Carol Caroli is gonna go on for most of the night and Silas' stuck at work for another couple hours. Shu's on her way over, she's gonna hit the labs to see if anyone else wants to hop by. We'll order take out, watch a movie, play a few games, it'll be fun! Sound good!" Frisk nodded. "Great! Catch you downstairs!" He shut the door and went back downstairs, making a terrible din the whole way.

Frisk looked over at the corner. "Are you feeling a little better?" they asked.

Chara sighed, the first sound they had made in half an hour. "Not really," they admitted. They floated back to Frisk's bedside. "But I can't very well wallow in my own misery forever. Some of your friends are going to be here soon, right? It'll be good for you, they'll be better company than I am."

Frisk went downstairs, and within five minutes the door opened. Susan came in and came to Frisk for a hug. "It's your favorite teacher!" she greeted. "Don't worry, I'm not going to get on your case. For tonight I'm just hanging out. Oh, and I brought one of your friends!"

"heya." Sans peeked out from the front door. He observed the room and commented, "nice place you got here, kid. you've really moved up in the world, haven't you?"

"Sans," Chara said. "I figured he would come up with the rest of the monsters. He said he'd stay in the Underground a while, I wonder what changed his mind." Sans, of course, only winked back to preserve his air of mystery.

"His name is Sans," Susan introduced the skeleton to Marty. "He's Papyrus' brother. Sans, this is Marty, the guy who's been exploiting your brother."

Marty put a hand to his chest in offense. "Excuse me? I have been providing a venue for people to get to know monsters better, and assisting Papyrus in his role as Ambassador. At no charge, may I add."

"Except for the donations and ad space you sell on your streams for a pretty penny."

He shrugged. "Don't hate the player, hate the game. Anyway, what do you all wanna eat? I can get subs, pizza, Chinese takeout…"

"hmmmm," Sans thought. "i'm familiar with 'takeout', but what's this 'chinese' thing…?"

Marty's jaw dropped. "Say what? You've never had it? Okay, this is no longer about convenience. Tonight! We are ordering Chinese food!"

"Marty, _no,_ " Susan's voice was polite but firm. "Order it if you have to, but do not call that stuff 'Chinese food'."

He shrugged. "If you'd rather not get anything I can just skip you…"

"I didn't say that! You're ordering from Chen Yang, right? I'll have the beef and broccoli. The chef there makes really good soup dumplings so I know his beef 'n' broccoli will be good."

"There you go! Let's see, steak teriyaki, chicken wings, sweet 'n' sour chicken, pork fried rice… ooh! Crab rangoon, too! Yup, that'll do I think." He tossed the television remote to Frisk. "Here's the Netflix, pick a movie while we make the order. Don't worry about trying to find something we'll like, I'm fine with anything and Shu, well, you don't become a grade school teacher without developing a little kid's taste in movies." He pulled out his cellphone and started dialing something as he retreated to the far end of the kitchen, too far away to hear as long as they kept their voices down.

Frisk frowned at the television screen filled with words they could not read. "Do you think he forgot?"

"Maybe," Chara shrugged. "He's obnoxious but he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy to be actively malicious. Here, let me borrow your thumb for a second, I'll pick something everyone will enjoy. There, this will even give the monster in the audience a glimpse of what humanity is really like."

That last comment set Frisk's teeth on edge, and they inspected Chara's choice of movie with newfound concern. The preview depicted a woman with a scar on their cheek sneering from atop a motorcycle. She was wearing a habit and a wimple, but both articles of clothing were damaged, dirty, and bloodied. "Sans?" Frisk called out, pointing at the screen. "What do you think about this one?"

Sans examined the offered movie. The light in his eyes shrunk to pinpricks. "hm. _Blood Sister: One Tough Nun._ nah, i don't think so kid. try and find something else." He took the remote from Frisk and pressed a few buttons, causing the list of movies to change. "how about something a little more age-appropriate? don't listen to the little misanthrope, kids movies can be just as enjoyable as anything else." Chara stuck out their tongue at Sans but they returned their attention to the screen.

Frisk thought for a moment and got an idea. "Can you… search for movies based on who's in it, or who made it?" Sans tilted his head to the side. "Can you look for movies that Carol Caroli was in?"

"carol caroli?" Sans chuckled once and his eyelights flicked over to a fuming Chara for a brief instant. "huh, that name's been popping up a lot today. weird. lemme see what I can do…" He started fumbling with the remote, clicking through the available options.

Chara's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I see what you're trying to do, Frisk, and it won't work. I'm not going to stick around to see what my _dear_ sister has been up to since my death."

"You should," Frisk said. "I think… if I were her, I'd really regret what I'd done. And I think…" Chara watching Carol's movies was important. There would be bits of herself expressed through the stories she told. A little bit in her acting, but most especially in the movies she made. Her hopes, her dreams, her experiences and regrets and everything she was. Surely that could tell them what kind of person Carol was? But they did not know how to explain all of that. It made perfect sense in their head but when it came to describe their train of thought their words left them.

Chara rolled their eyes, not waiting for Frisk to figure it out. "Whatever, wake me when the movie's over." With that they faded from view before Frisk could offer a word of protest.

"just as well," Sans whispered. "if they started talking during the movie i'd sound like a nut trying to shush them." He stared at Frisk for a moment, his smile as rigid as if it were painted on his face. "what's that look for?"

"Why are you so mean to Chara?" Frisk asked. "You could see them the whole time and you ignored them. They're having a tough time and could use more friends. You were friends, weren't you?"

"a long time ago, kid, and trust me, you don't know half of what's gone on in the meantime. listen, i only got until those other two come back, so just tell me straight: you don't have your time powers anymore, do ya?" The moment of shock must have been visible on their face, because Sans nodded. "yeah, thought so. not gonna lie, that makes me real nervous. i don't know where that power's gone or who or what has it now. but you know, it also makes things a lot easier for me." He leaned back and put his hands behind his head to cradle his skull. "i thought i'd have to keep you happy so you wouldn't try to reset everything, but if there's nothing i can do about it, i can just enjoy myself."

Frisk blinked. "What… are you talking about?"

"lotta stuff you don't need to worry about. bottom line, just enjoy your life as much as you can, kid. ain't nothing else any of us can do."

So he knew, or suspected, that Frisk had the power to Load from the moment they first met. That was why he was always friendly toward them. Why they were always so careful never to say too much. Why he never told them how he really felt. They wanted to be mad, but if they were being honest they were using their powers irresponsibly.

"Sans?" Frisk asked. "If… if I weren't the last human, if I didn't have any powers. Would you still have been my friend?" A bit more reluctantly they asked, "Are we friends now?"

Sans replied, "who knows? don't take this the wrong way, i don't make friends that easy. but… look, me and chara have a history that makes it hard for me to cut 'em a break but i still trust their judgment when it comes to people. if they think you're cool i'm fine being friends with you even if the world isn't at stake. so how about we call a mulligan? i don't ask you what you were up to in all those erased timelines underground, and you don't ask me how i learned about stuff like timelines and resets. you're just an eight year old kid, and i'm a pun-loving skeleton. deal?"

Frisk smiled. "Deal." And they both shook hands on it.

The two adult humans returned with impeccable timing. Marty "huh"ed at the screen. "Isn't this that kids movie Carol Caroli made? I heard the story is pretty out-there."

Susan made a face. "Mmmm, I dunno, it might be a little intense…"

"It's fine, it's fine!" Marty insisted. "If it scares them that's a good character building experience. My parents got traumatized as kids by Watership Down, I got traumatized by the clown in Brave Little Toaster, it's only fair that today's kids get freaked out by movies too." He settled in on the couch seat opposite Frisk. "I'll keep an ear out for the delivery guy, so just enjoy the show."

Frisk understood why Marty thought the story was strange; he did not know the background. He did not know what Carol and Chara had been through, and that Carol had directly drawn on those experiences in making this film. The movie was about a girl who went to live with an aunt and uncle for a summer. While there she was warned about a demon who lived in the house, and she should never get out of bed at night or talk to the demon if she found it. But over the course of the movie the girl learns the 'demon' is actually her cousin, hidden away and abused by her evil relatives. In the climax of the movie she stands up the the aunt and uncle, declaring the demon was her family who deserved better, and ending in a huge chase scene where she and her cousin rescue each other several times. But Frisk was not paying attention to that. That scene, where the heroine defends her family… they were sure that was what was in Carol's heart. They somehow knew, this movie was Carol's way of saying 'sorry' to Chara.

And Chara could not be bothered to see it.

Frisk huffed. Just another bit of work they had ahead of them…

* * *

It was ten minutes to five, and social worker Ms. Ashland was busy typing away at her computer. She needed to get all her paperwork in for the day before the bell sounded to go home; there was no money in the budget for overtime, so anything she did past then was working for free. So in the next ten minutes she not only had to type out her reports on today's visits, make her recommendations, review any changes, she also had to prioritize and schedule her time for the rest of the week. She paused briefly when she saw one of her duties included a home visit to check on Frisk.

Frisk. Oh, Frisk. She had done them wrong.

It was not as though she intended to hurt them. She really, honestly wanted what was best for them, the same as any of the kids she was assigned to. There were just so many of them and only so much of her, that was the problem. New Hampshire was better than a lot of other states, but there were still too many kids for too few workers. There had always been hiring freezes, or budget cuts, or some scandal in another state breathing down their necks and making it impossible to fire lazy people and hire better ones, or pay the good people what they were worth. Understaffed, underbudgeted, and overworked was a bad combination but that was the reality of life working for the public sector in a state so fearful of taxes. Frisk did not stand out. They were not being abused, they were not getting involved with gangs or drugs, they were not disintegrating rapidly. True, they would not talk about what their problems were and they kept getting sent back by foster families, but it was not a situation which needed imminent attention. She could afford to put them off for a little bit while she dealt with other kids. But there was a limit to how much you could do that. A pot left on the back burner for long enough will eventually congeal. She thought she had lost Frisk forever when they ran away, doomed to never see them alive again. The police had all but called off the search when they were finally found, and she promised to make them a priority from now on.

Frisk clearly did not trust her newfound dedication but she deserved that. If Frisk hated her forever she could put up with it as long as they were safe. Though she had to admit, she did not much like that new trick Frisk learned where they kept their eyes closed but she still knew they were glaring at her. Getting chewed out by their new foster father was not a fun experience either. Silas Pembrooke… was he related to local grocery store magnate Reginald Pembrooke?… he was a pretty interesting character. Serious as cancer and twice as dangerous. He had called up demanding to know why Frisk had never been evaluated for learning disabilities, and for the second time in a week she did not have a good answer. When speaking with a lawyer that was a bad position to be in. Once again the higher-ups moved heaven and earth to get him everything he wanted, and this time she could not even get mad at him. Dyslexia! It explained so much! She cursed herself; she should have seen it, would have seen it if she had focused on Frisk instead of constantly putting them off. If she had not consciously chosen not to see it.

Her phone rang. Her eyes flicked over to the digital clock… five minutes until quitting time. She cursed under her breath, visions of unpaid overtime flashing in her mind. She answered the phone with a distracted, "Division for Children, Youth, and Families."

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the line belonged to a man, not quite young and not quite old. He had the barest hint of an accent, and even that sounded like it was only coming out because of the clear agitation in his voice. "Sorry, we've been bounced around four or five times- am I speaking to Ms. Ashland? The last person I spoke to said they would email you…"

She refreshed her inbox to be thorough. "This is Ms. Ashland speaking, but I haven't gotten anything yet in my inbox. May I ask what your call is about? I understand your frustration since you've probably gone over your issue with everyone else so far… but can I ask you to tell it one more time?"

A long ragged sigh came out from the other end of the phone, though he did sound more upbeat. "Sure, okay. I'm calling about, uh, _Frisk_? Well, the short version is, me and my wife- we, think Frisk might be ours, and we want to look into adoption."

* * *

Silas pulled up and saw both Marty's and Susan's car parked out front. He hoped Marty was not giving Frisk too much stimulation, it was nearly their bedtime. He regretted having to work so late, but figured if Marty had called Susan for backup he did not need to worry too much about his young charge. He checked the doorknob, satisfied to find it locked, then unlocked it with his key. When he entered the living room he expected a disaster area, but instead he found the living room mostly clean. True, there was a mountain of Chinese takeout boxes growing out of the trash bin, but that was a level of mess he could accept. Marty, Susan, Frisk, and Sans -that skeleton made it here? Damn- were crowded around the dining room table. They were playing a card game of some kind, which Silas was able to identify as he walked closer. "Love Letter?" he asked.

"Yep," Susan responded. Her hands were empty and she watched the other players. "We're almost done. Sans, Frisk, and Marty each only need one more point to win and I'm out. Whoever wins this round takes the game." It was a fairly simple game: each player had a card with a character and a value. On their turn a player drew a card and discarded one card. Each card had either a special rule or a special ability the player could use when they were discarded, from looking at another player's hand to granting immunity to other players cards. The object of the game was to either knock every other player out of the round or have the highest value card in your hand when the deck was depleted. With four players at the table four rounds won the game.

Marty considered his two cards with a hum, looking between them while deciding which to keep and which to discard. Both cards had a special ability when discarded, but which would be more valuable now? "I'm… getting rid of the Prince. Hey Sansy, you have to ditch whatever you've got and draw a new card."

Sans shook his head and dropped his card to reveal the Princess. Special ability: if a player discards the Princess for any reason they immediately lose the round. "nope, i'm out. looks like either you or frisk is taking the game."

Marty pumped his fist. "Ha! Knew it. Thanks for playing mister skeltal!"

Next was Frisk's turn. They drew a new card and got the Handmaid. Comparing their new card to their old one, the Handmaid had a value of 4 and the Guard a value of only 1. The highest value card won at the end of the round and it was fast approaching. Frisk got rid of the Guard.

Marty whistled, "A Guard, huh? Alright kid, you know how this works. Name a card. If that's the card I got, you win the round and the game. Guess wrong? Heh heh heh, then I've got a shot at the prize. Not many cards left in the deck… what's it gonna be?"

Frisk frowned in thought. The other players, except Sans, did not know Frisk had an adviser on their side, summoned quietly after the movie was over. Chara thought aloud, "There are eight possibilities… no, thinking logically there are only three. There's only one Princess, two Princes, and two Barons in the deck and they've all been played this round, it's not one of them. The Duchess' special ability is that if you hold her and either a King or Prince in your hand you have to discard the Duchess; Marty just got rid of a Prince so his card is not a Duchess." Frisk wanted to point out that Marty could be cheating, but Chara was deep in thought and they did not want to distract them. Also they did not think even Marty would cheat against an eight year old. "So Marty's card has to be either the King, Handmaid, or Priest. Or another Guard, but you can't name a Guard when you play a Guard." So Frisk had, at best, a 1-in-4 chance of guessing right and ending the game right here and now. The King was the only card still in play with a higher value than the Handmaid, so if Marty did not have that they could win at the end of the round. But Marty… he seemed confident that Frisk would not guess his card. Which meant it was not the obvious choice… but he also was trying to taunt Frisk to mask his nervousness. He could lose, he was vulnerable to this play, which meant he did not have a Guard. He either had the other Handmaid or a Priest. One in two.

Frisk made their decision. "Do you have a Priest?"

Marty winced and tossed his card, the Priest, face-up on the table. "Nooooooo! I am defeated!" he wailed.

Frisk smiled and threw their hands in the air. "I win!" Susan rubbed their shoulders and gave them a "Good job!" while Sans merely gave a wink and a thumbs up.

"Good job," Silas congratulated. "So, did Marty help you with your homework?"

"Of course!" "No." Marty and Frisk answered at the same time. Marty sighed as he looked at Frisk. "Kid, you ratted me out. I thought we were buds."

Silas rolled his eyes. "Ignore him, I didn't actually expect him to be responsible. Come on, we'll do it quick before putting you to bed. The rest of you know the rules, loser puts away the game."

"Riiiiiight," Susan drawled without enthusiasm, gathering up the cards. "I feel dumb for believing Marty when he said Frisk was already done with their homework, I should've known…"

"well, that's my cue," Sans oozed out of his seat and stretched his hands over his head. "it's been real you guys, but i oughta be heading back. it's getting close to time for pap's bedtime story."

Susan offered, "Wait, if you give me fiiiiive minutes, I'll be done with this and can-"

"thanks, but i think i got this place figured out." Sans pulled a notebook out of his hoodie pocket and wrote something down. "i'll take the scenic route some other time, today it's going to be a shortcut. see you around." With that he walked out the front door and closed it behind him.

"Is he going to be alright by himself?" Susan asked.

Silas sighed, "Toriel's able to walk downtown to do errands by herself, I assume he's fine."

"Eh, I don't like it," Marty said, grabbing his keys. "I'm just gonna give him a ride-" He stopped when he opened the door, then looked in both directions. "Hey, where'd he go? He was _just_ here!"

Silas mused to himself that he was right not to trust that skeleton. "If he took off that fast as soon as our backs were turned he must know what he's doing. Thanks for keeping an eye on Frisk. You're both lifesavers."

"You know it's no problem looking after Frisk!" "I take payment in the form of your firstborn."

Susan and Marty looked at each other, the former with shock and the latter with apologetic smarm.

Silas rolled his eyes. "Going rate for a babysitter is $17 an hour, I can cut you a check if you really want to nickle and dime this out. Though if we're doing that I'll need to deduct any food from my freezer you've eaten in the past month…"

Marty held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! Point taken!"

"Good," Silas nodded. "Glad we reached an understanding. I'm going to go help Frisk, I trust you two to let yourselves out when you're done."

Frisk's homework did not take long. This was fortunate, because by the time it was done Frisk's mouth was hanging open and their head was waving back and forth in the way a kid's always does when they insist they are not tired. Silas left them alone to change into their pajamas and made sure they were snug in their bed.

"Did you have fun with Marty and Susan today?" Silas asked. Frisk nodded sleepily. "Good. We stayed up a little past your bedtime, but I won't tell Toriel if you won't. Get some rest, tomorrow's another school day." As he turned to leave Frisk made an "um" sound that stopped him. "Yes? Is there something else you need?"

Frisk fidgeted underneath the covers. "Um… it's just… can I get… a good night kiss?"

Silas' lip twitched. "I'm… not really the kissing type. I'll have Toriel kiss you when she comes in."

Frisk immediately felt stupid for bothering him. "O-oh. Okay. That's fine. Sorry. Good night."

Silas nodded as he turned off the light. "Good night, Frisk."

Toriel did give Frisk a kiss on the forehead when she came in, but Frisk was long asleep by then.

* * *

Later that evening, after all the adults went to bed, one creature still stirred. It listened at the door to make sure Silas was not moving. It peeked downstairs to make sure Toriel was lying on the couch. Then it returned to Frisk's room, where it hovered over the child.

Chara cleared their throat and said, "Phone. Call Papyrus."

Frisk mumbled, "Phone, call Papyrus." From its place on the nightstand Frisk's phone lit up and began dialing the number. This feature was intended to help Frisk call people when they could not read a contact list, but Chara quickly realized it could also be used like this. True, there were not that many people Chara could call, especially this late at night. But Papyrus did not sleep, and they could see and hear Chara when they were in the same room.

"Tow-ree-ell?" Papyrus' voice came out over the speaker. "Frisk, why are you calling me so late at night? You should be in bed!"

Chara said and Frisk repeated, "Papyrus? It's Chara. Can you come over?"

"But of course! But, what about Frisk? And why does their voice sound so far away?"

"They're sleeping. Meet me outside, I need to talk to you. Phone, hang up." The call terminated. Chara waited for a moment to see if their actions had woken Frisk up. Satisfied that their partner was still asleep, they floated through the outside wall and hovered down to ground level, going as far away from Frisk as they could manage.

After a few minutes they saw a white and orange shape weaving through the tree line behind Silas' condo, and as it approached Chara recognized the tall skeleton they had called. "Thanks for coming," they said. "Try to be quiet, Toriel's a very light sleeper."

Papyrus nodded in greeting, "Ah yes, I found that out back before everyone moved out of Silas' condo! Very well, I shall regulate my volume for your sake. Anyway, hello! What brings you out here?"

"Thinking about stuff," Chara said with a shrug. "About being dead. About how it makes things all weird. I assume you've heard about Carol."

"Oh yes!" Papyrus said. "It's big news, possibly the biggest! She was your sister, yes? When you were alive? And it's… um, sort of her fault you ended up Underground."

Chara scoffed, "That's one way to put it." They rubbed the back of their head. "It's stupid. Part of me feels like… she's been carrying around that guilt for most of her life. And I know it's guilt because she came right away to let Asgore and Toriel know 'Chara' was her sibling. If she stayed hidden there was almost no chance the monsters would have found her. She could have buried the secret forever and she didn't. Something motivated her to take proactive steps and reveal herself."

Papyrus looked like he wanted to say something about that but bit his tongue. "Perhaps we could have found her, eventually. But that's not what you wanted to talk about. Continue."

"I should let it go. It was thirty three years ago. But for me it wasn't that long ago at all. It still hurts when I think about it. You have to understand, she was my entire life. I trusted her with all my heart because I had nothing else to cling to. And-" Chara grabbed at their chest and forced the memory back into the dark recesses of their mind. If they ended up transferring a memory to Frisk now it would probably give the kid a nightmare. "… I was tossed aside the moment I became inconvenient. And I don't know if I'm ready to forgive that. I might not ever be ready."

Papyrus nodded his head, following along. "I see. What does Frisk think? I assume there's a good reason you don't want them to know you're talking to me."

"They're too close to it," Chara huffed. "I appreciate their concern, but they keep pushing me towards reconciliation. They're biased when it comes to families, so I can't take their advice at face value."

"I see. Well! My opinion is, you aren't as angry as you think," Papyrus said. "I've been told your name and hers, 'Chara' and 'Caroli', are a two-part set. I think if you really hated her you would not have held onto that name so tightly."

Chara countered, "I was probably concussed when I gave Asriel and the Dreemurrs my name, and it's not like I had another one picked out. I sure as hell wasn't going to give Asriel my deadname."

Papyrus hummed. "No, I suppose not. But it's not strange for monsters to change their names, either. You could have chosen another name if you wanted to." He tapped a phalange against his teeth. "But that's not relevant to your problem. You're concerned it may not be acceptable for you to still be hurt. That is not something I have much experience in. Oh! But I do have something to offer. You see, when I first met Frisk, I-"

"You attacked them, yes, I was there for that."

"Right! Right. And they forgave me for it rather quickly. But! It was within their right not to do so!"

Chara rolled their eyes. "Frisk isn't like me. They get mad, sure, but they don't really hold grudges."

"What I'm trying to say is, forgiveness isn't something that's _earned_. There's no number of wrongs set right or amount of atonement which has to be done before the accused has a right to a clean slate. It's something _given._ If the person who was hurt does not forgive the person who hurt them, that's how it is. I'm sorry, this isn't the answer you probably wanted to hear. But I think you would prefer the answer that's true. You should prepare yourself for the possibility that the person you most want to hear it from may never forgive you."

Chara's face and voice were carefully neutral. "I was talking about forgiving my sister."

"Of course you were," Papyrus said knowingly. "My mistake."

Chara faced the side of the house. They wiped their eyes, their sleeve coming away with a black smear. "… Yeah. I don't like the answer I got, but I guess that's the answer I needed to hear." Realistically there was no connection between what Carol did to them and what they did to Asriel. Even if they forgave their sister it was no guarantee that Asriel would someday forgive them. They were completely separate situations. But in their heart they still felt there was some connection, deeper than mere causality. If they could not offer peace to those who had wronged them, what right did they have to expect it from those they had wronged? And was forgiveness something they even wanted? Would they be able to accept it if offered? It may not have been fair to Carol, but Chara strongly felt they could not proceed yet. They needed to figure out their feelings regarding Asriel before they could think about what, if anything, they could do for Carol.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Papyrus asked. "I could play a few games with you if you like, though Silas locks his door at night and he got very angry when I jumped through his window that one time. Still! I will face his wrath for your sake if you so desire!"

"That's alright. Though… there is one more thing." Chara took a deep, shaking breath. "I can't ask this of anyone else. There's not many people who know I'm here and I want to keep that number small. I don't trust Mettaton with something this important. And Sans… I can't ask him for favors. I have done enough to him. I need your magic field. I want to see my soul."

Papyrus frowned. "Are you quite sure about that? I mean… it's a teensy bit dangerous for a human to be in a position where monsters can use their magic on them."

Chara laughed. "If I can't trust the Great Papyrus with his magic, there's no one in the world I can trust."

"Well put. Alright! Ready?"

Chara felt a wave of magic wash over them, feeling tingly all over for a brief moment. Before they looked down they heard Papyrus gasp, so already they knew they would not like what they saw. The soul had once been a heart, but broken into seven misshapen pieces with empty gaps between them. It was clear from a single glance that compressing the available pieces would not return it to a heart shape; the shape would be too compressed, the jagged edges would not line up right. Each piece had been ground down along every edge so they would never fit together snugly with its partners again. The missing pieces were exactly that: missing. Gone.

Chara began to giggle. "It's… it looks terrible, doesn't it? Ha ha, like I'm-" _broken horrible a mistake not even human a demon_ "-like there's something wrong with me?"

Papyrus looked up at them incredulously. "What? Oh, the pieces? That I expected, your soul broke when you died and separated so you could follow each of the other humans. But no! I see something wonderful! Look harder!"

It did not occur to Chara until much later to wonder how he knew about all of that. Instead they were so caught up in his enthusiasm that they looked again at their soul. They expected Papyrus was going to say something sappy like, "That's the soul of a very good friend and great person!", but they realized Papyrus was being quite literal. In the gaps between the pieces of their soul was a faint white film, thicker along the edges and thinning in the midpoints but connecting everything into one whole. "Wh-what?" Chara said. "I… what is this stuff? What's going on?"

"Oh!" Papyrus snapped his phalanges, causing a finger-snap sound even though that made no sense anatomically. "I've heard about this! When humans get hurt, their bodies form a new layer of skin over the site of the injury. I think this is something like that, but for your soul."

They resisted the urge to poke at it to see how it felt. "But… what is it? What does it mean?"

"Chara," Papyrus said, beaming. "I do believe it means you're _healing_."


	26. Heating Up

_It was a cold day by Hotland standards. The sea of magma below was at its lowest point in decades, low enough to reduce the ambient heat from_ _"murderous" to merely "sweltering". This particular platform was a known scenic spot, overlooking a vast ocean of lava. The walls and ceiling glittered with tiny flecks of gems but were particularly rich in onyx, creating the closest thing to a night sky possible in the region. For this reason a gazebo had been carved out of granite and erected in this spot. Couples, threesomes, or moresomes could enjoy an enchanting and romantic atmosphere. Or, Marijane thought to herself, a human running for their life could find ample hiding spots among the pillars._

 _The heat was still a bit much for humans. Her sweat caused her blouse to cling tightly to her and her hair was matted down close to her head. She wanted to fall over and cool herself with great heaving gasps, but that was a luxury she could not afford. She had to hold on as long as possible. She heard the soft tap-tap-tap of approaching footsteps and winced; she did not need Chara to tell her who had just arrived._ _"It's Grillby," Chara still informed her. The ghost was peeking out from behind a pillar, secure in the knowledge only Marijane could see them. Chara continued, "He's moving slow and looking all around. Seems like he does not want to walk into the center of the ring of pillars. Oh holy-! He just crystallized a sword! I think it's a fencing sword… an epee? A rapier? You don't know what it's called."_

 _No, she did not know, but she knew very well what it could do. Long, balanced, and adept at shallow cuts and deep lunges. It was thinner than other swords, but what use was an unwieldy blade when you were facing a human? No matter how grievous or not the wound you inflicted was, a single prick on a human_ _'s soul would either kill or incapacitate them. Grillby's foil was a weapon specifically for killing humans. Moreover, he was exceedingly skilled in using it and his magic in tandem. There must have been a way to fight him, but it was beyond Marijane's power. She never lasted more than a few rounds before he overwhelmed her, and with the heat sapping her energy she had no illusions about faring any better now. Once or twice she managed to evade him by fleeing into a populated area, or by luck when someone happened upon their battle. For all his bloodthirst he refused to fight if it was possible other monsters could get caught in the crossfire. This would be their final battle, the last round of hide and seek. If Grillby found her, she lost. If she hid for long enough, she won. That was what it came down to._

" _He's looking from pillar to pillar," Chara gave her an update. "He probably suspects an ambush. He must think you'll attack him as soon as his back is turned and won't come forward unless he knows where you are. He stopped moving… maybe he's trying to wait you out, or-" They were interrupted by a wave of tingly warmth washing over Marijane. She had felt it enough to know what it was: Grillby's magic field. Her green soul appeared at the center of her chest. Strangely, another shape, this one red, appeared on Chara's chest. It was smaller than Marijane's, about the size of a thumbnail, and shaped a bit like a slice of pie with jagged and uneven edges. "Don't panic," Chara advised her. "He shouldn't be able to tell if someone's in his magic field just by spreading it out. And with how much care he's taken to avoid monsters being hurt so far, he won't blind-fire behind the pillars unless he knows what he's going to hit."_

 _At that moment a flame appeared in the center of the gazebo. It darted to and fro before returning to where Grillby was. Then it lazily traced along the edge of the platform, weaving between the pillars as it went. What was he trying to do? Was this another attempt to psyche her out? Make her panic and run out of hiding, or make a noise? She held her breath. She was afraid to even curl her toes out of fear her shoes would scrape against the dirt and give her away._

" _Oh no," Chara said, their smile growing thin and their eyes widening. "I see what he's doing. He's going to find you! Look!" They pointed to the space between the pillars. As the flame danced around them, it projected a shadow onto the floor. A shadow which revealed a straight edge. Marijane whirled around and saw the shadow her own pillar was making, one that showed a lumpy figure standing with its back against the pillar. Her mouth opened but no scream came out. She was found out. She was done for._

 _The flame went out. Marijane knew she should move, but despair overwhelmed her. What would be the point? She would never be able to outrun him, escape him, or outfight him here. He would destroy her effortlessly, and then it would be back to the yellow star to try again. Tears reached her eyes. Darn it all! She was so close! But death did not come. Instead she heard heavy footsteps approaching the gazebo, with much more weight behind them than any flame elemental could manage, and she was so relieved her tears fell. She had done it! She had won!_

 _She dared to peek out from behind the pillar. Grillby was now facing away from her and towards someone else. The newcomer was a large woman, broad shouldered and muscular with greenish-blue skin. She was doubled over and panting so her face could not be seen, but she had a full head of white hair that somehow managed to stay draped across her back and sticking up like porcupine quills even in this heat. When she finally recovered her breath and rose to her full height she cleared six and a half feet tall easily. Her forehead bore two thin black jagged horns and overly-long incisors protruded from her lower teeth to cover her upper lip, but her face was otherwise quite beautiful to Marijane_ _'s eyes. She was wearing a floral print happi coat with navy blue pants and a black apron around the waist. "I… came as soon as I could," she breathed out, her attention entirely focused on Grillby. "I hope you weren't waiting long?" Grillby shook his head no, a bit forcefully. "What a relief! Um… may I start?" Grillby motioned for her to go on, though his flames were flickering. Fear? Or anticipation? The large woman smiled and wrung her hands. "Well, you might remember me from the restaurant? My name is Homura. Um, this might surprise you, or even terrify you, but… I've been watching you for a long time. You're always so dignified, so dashing and charming and handsome, I couldn't look away! Seeing you come in for your breakfast each morning and your dinner each night is the highlight of my day! I know we haven't had a chance to talk much, but… do you think we could… see each other more?" She clasped her hands together almost pleadingly as she finished her speech and awaited the response on tip-toe._

 _Grillby stood rock solid, even the flames on his head did not move. He raised his trembling arms and started making signs. They were slow and shaky at first, but after a few moments he started signing faster and faster until his hands were a blur. Homura followed his every word, even as he began to_ _'babble'. She covered her mouth with her hands to hide her smile. Then she giggled in delirious happiness. Finally she rushed forward and scooped up Grillby in her arms, laughing as she twirled with her new beau. Grillby returned the hug and pressed his face to hers._

 _Marijane, thinking children should not be watching this, put a hand over Chara_ _'s eyes. Chara floated out of reach, giving her an annoyed but humoring grin. They admonished, "Just because you've grown up while I've stayed the same age, don't think that means you can baby me!"_

" _Thank you, thank you!" Homura said when her lips were no longer occupied. "I had no idea you felt so passionately! And it was so thoughtful and romantic of you to invite me here! When I got your letter I knew I had to come right away!" Grillby shook his head and made a few signs. "What? You thought I was the one who summoned you? But… if you did not send the letter I received, and I did not send the letter you received, then who…?"_

" _I did," Marijane said, stepping out from behind the pillar. Grillby thrust a hand to the side to shield Homura from any attack but did not project his magic field toward Marijane. Homura touched her fingertips to her lips in surprise but did nothing. "I'm sorry for tricking you into coming here, but it was so obvious you two were crazy about each other! So I sent each of you a letter telling you to meet here. It all worked out perfectly!"_

 _Grillby lowered his arm as he realized an attack was not forthcoming. Homura knelt down to put herself at Marijane_ _'s level. "Little girl," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "That is a nasty trick to play on grown-ups! But I suppose I can overlook it this once. In fact, stop by next time you're in the neighborhood, I'll be sure to give you extra-special service!"_

" _Sounds great! And now my work here is done! Is it alright if I leave you two alone?"_

" _Of course!" Homura said immediately, but it was not her response she was looking for. Grillby would understand what the question actually was: 'Are you going to stop trying to kill me now?' His response came a little slower. He nodded his head and gave her the thumbs up._

 _Marijane heaved a great sigh._ _"Great! Enjoy your date!" The two lovers blushed and sputtered as Marijane skipped away down the lane. With that done there were no more dangers in Hotland that could give her pause. The road to the capital was clear._

 _As she touched a glowing yellow star which had appeared in the path, Chara narrated in an impressed and awed tone,_ _"The gazebo has been claimed by lovers. Playing matchmaker fills you with determination."_

* * *

Chad Nelson adjusted the position of his tie but failed to make it any more comfortable. He stretched his fingers and stared at the computer screen trying to muster up the motivation to write a report or schedule a meeting or whatever it was white collar workers were supposed to do. His cubicle was sparsely decorated; a stack of papers on the desk, a sticky note with his computer password taped to his monitor, printouts of important reports taped to the walls. All business, no personality. He supposed it might make things feel a little more comfortable if he had photos or memorabilia to put up, but he had never been big on that kind of thing and so he had nothing to decorate with.

He hated to admit it after being handed this job but he was ill-suited for this kind of work. He preferred working with his hands. Making things. Using his muscles. Turning his brain off and letting his body go through the motions in a kind of auto-pilot that let him reserve his meager brainpower for other things. True, it paid better than being a factory monkey, but he could actually feel his soul corrode in a way it never did sifting flower petals.

"Chad?" He was shocked out of his daydreaming by a squeaky voice coming from the side. One of his co-workers was peeking her head over the top of the cubicle wall. She was a petite woman who probably had to stand on tip-toe to get her head that high. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you…"

"It's fine," Chad said quickly. "Just… having trouble concentrating today. What's up?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Her eyes darted to the side, toward the boss' private office. The sound of impassioned yelling came from within; only some of the words were intelligible, and few of them fit to print. Every so often there was a loud bang as something got tossed into the wall or at the floor. Nothing had shattered yet, so he at least still had the presence of mind not to get violent with anything that would not survive the venting intact.

Chad rolled his eyes. "Oh, him. Just let him get it out of his system."

"He's been doing that for two hours, ever since the Caroli bombshell. We can't work like this, you've got to do something!"

"Why me?" he asked. "I don't want to face down an angry boss either."

"You're the only one who can calm him down when he gets like this," she said sheepishly. "We'll all pay for your lunch for a week, just please do something!"

Chad sighed. "Alright, I'll go see him. No promises, though. None of us have any good news to placate him." Privately he was glad for the interruption. He was not getting anything done anyway, and this at least gave him the chance to stretch his legs. He walked down a passage through a sea of cubicles, seeing only chest-high walls and the tops of peoples' heads as everyone else tried to avoid being noticed. On his way he noticed a cubicle which was currently unoccupied, its occupant off to the bathroom or to get more coffee. A political cartoon had been pasted on the outside wall; it was difficult to make out from how poorly drawn the figures were and how everything was overly cross-hatched, but it appeared to be a caricature of Asgore with a giant head and sharp teeth, subtitled "The New Child Predator". After looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking, Chad tore the cartoon off the wall, rolled it into a tight ball, and surreptitiously tossed it into a wastebasket. Then he opened the door to Byron Rickford's office.

Byron's office was just as he expected. The portraits were crooked where they had not been knocked off the wall entirely. The contents of several folders littered the floor. The only clean part of the room was the top of Byron's desk; his laptop could not be found, but the window was still closed and intact so at least it was probably somewhere safe. "Can you even fucking believe this?!" Byron was in a rare state the moment Chad entered the room. Chad made the mental effort to remove all the f-bombs Byron was dropping. "They make a whole building out of nothing, _poof_ , and it's out of the news by the next day! Proof the monsters can summon up an army or an arsenal out of nowhere and there's a total media blackout! Instead everyone rushes off to report on celebrity gossip! What the hell is wrong with these people?!"

"It's not 'celebrity gossip'," Chad said. "It's Carol Caroli, the most well-known resident of Weymouth ever, making bombshell allegations against her own guardians of faking her sibling's death. Not only that, but claiming that sibling's true identity is Chara, the missing 'first human child'. It's going to be all anybody's talking about for a while, probably."

"That's the worst part," Byron snarled. "I had so many plans for Chara. Conspiracies about monsters hiding the truth. Survivors providing an alternate telling of events. Maybe even kids pretending to be Chara resurrected like those other kids denouncing the monsters. Heh, that sure would've taken the wind out of their sails…"

Chad felt a lump form in his throat and a fire spread in his cheeks. "It's pretty gross to lie about a dead kid."

This actually seemed to land. Byron sucked in air, held it a moment with his cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk's, then released it. When he did he nodded, contrite. "W-Well, I wasn't the one spreading those rumors," Byron coughed. "I just thought they could be useful. You know, keep an eye on them, see where the public went. I mean, it was a pretty neat puzzle the monsters presented with the story of Chara! It's just, anti-climactic to end like this. As yet another PR boon for monsters." He grumbled something unintelligible as he shuffled to his chair. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Especially when we haven't been able to reach the White Beast enthusiasts to offer a counter-narrative to their 'only son trying to honor his friend's last request' story."

"About that," Chad said. More bad news was not going to help Byron's mood, but he needed to know. "I haven't had any luck getting in touch with the owner of the webmaster for the Weymouth White Beast site. In fact, the whole site went dark last week. Everything got pulled; all the pages, all the contact info, everything. Someone's still paying for the domain name but everything is gone."

"What?!" Byron slammed a fist on his desk. "What the hell? Why are they turning tail and running? We need that now more than ever!"

"Not that hard to guess," Chad said. "They've been promoting the legend of a dangerous cryptid for thirty years, only to learn the animal was completely real but just a scared ten-year old kid who died of his wounds. Going from 'speakers of truth' to 'child killers' didn't do their public image any favors. I'd be surprised if they ever showed their faces in public again."

Byron wiped his face with his hands. "Great. Freakin'… wonderful." He stared to the side for a moment. "We're… probably going to have to give up on Weymouth."

Chad frowned. "What do you mean, 'give up'? This is our home."

Byron waved him off. "I mean, public opinion is swinging too hard in favor of the monsters right now. The more people see of them, the more they hear from them, the more they like them. It's maddening. Any moment now the floodgates are gonna burst, ten thousand monsters are going to be living _here_ and not under the mountain, and there'll be no way to shove them back. This whole city's going to be pro-monster in a few months, maybe even shorter. We've got to do more outreach. Expand to other parts of the state, or even the country. If we can keep them locked to Weymouth, prevent them from getting citizenship, that'll have to do. If we let them get out of Weymouth it's over; they'll spread and infest the rest of the country and we'll never be entirely rid of them."

"Could you maybe cool it?" Chad sighed. "They're people we have to be careful about but not vermin."

Byron stared directly at Chad for several moments, his face blank. Then he laughed nervously. "… Right, right. Yeah, sorry, I'm just so angry… yeah, I let myself get a little carried away there. But my point stands, we need to concentrate on social media efforts. Cancel all our rallies for the Weymouth area, we're going to Concord, Keene, Portsmouth, Dover, anywhere but here! Start seeing what we can do about other states, too, if we can get the whole rest of the country on our side one little podunk won't be too big a loss!"

Chad was torn. What Byron was saying was correct; it would be smart for Humans First to cut their losses here and focus elsewhere. There was no value in putting money and effort into Weymouth when nothing would come of it. But abandoning Weymouth meant abandoning his friends. It meant abandoning his home. Even if many others felt trapped here, he did not. He loved this place. He could not in good conscience let it be overrun by monsters without a fight. Wait, no. Where had that visceral negative reaction come from? Monsters, by and large, were good people. He had met them firsthand. He was being careful, that was all. If Weymouth became a place where humans and monsters lived in peace, would that be so bad? He shook his head clear. "Sure thing, boss," he said. "I'll pass the new marching orders on to the troops."

Byron nodded but was not really listening, staring at a place on the wall where a portrait of former president Andrew Jackson used to hang. Chad took the hint and left.

* * *

Frisk wanted to surprise Oswald with a treat, but they were informed they would not be able to bring in food from outside on their next visit; hospital regulations were very strict about what kind of things visitors could bring to patients. Alphys had also warned them that monster food could make some illnesses worse, as the disease could steal the energy and nutrients intended for the body and make the person even more sick. So when Frisk brought a pie for Ozzie it would have to be a non-monsterfied pie. Toriel decided it would be a good idea to practice making a pie in preparation for that day; after all it had been a long time she had used anything besides fire magic to bake so she needed to relearn how to bake using the stove. Helping Frisk learn to bake at the same time was an added bonus. All the ingredients were laid out on the counter, with Frisk standing on a stool so they could reach.

"You have to tap the egg against the bowl's surface," Toriel demonstrated her lesson as she gave it, cleanly splitting apart an egg. "Remember, just a light tap, then peel the shell open with your fingers. Don't worry about getting a little bit on your hands, we just washed them. … You did wash your hands, did you not?" Frisk decided to play a little. They grabbed the egg with both hands over the bowl and squeezed, trying to crush the egg in their hands. They grunted in exertion, but they did not seem to be having any effect. Toriel giggled, "Frisk, that will not work! No matter how hard you squeeze the egg in your hand, it will not break."

"It's because of the egg's shape," Chara explained. "The curves distribute any pressure on the egg, so any force you try to use will dissipate uselessly. You have to use a concentrated strike at a specific point to break the shell and-" They stopped in mid-sentence and stared into the middle distance. The smile disappeared from their face and their jaw dropped. " _Oh my god!_ " Chara shouted, pulling on their hair. They twirled in place and continued, "I am an idiot! I had months, _years_ to figure it out! Why didn't I think of this before?! Stupid stupid stupid-!"

"Now you take the whisk and mix all the wet ingredients together," Toriel said, oblivious to the cacophony going on in the same kitchen she was giving her sedate lesson. Frisk tried to focus on her and follow her instructions but Chara was not making it easy. Toriel held the bowl while Frisk mixed with both hands on the whisk. Their tool slipped through the mixture in fits and starts like a motorboat trying to reach shore with the last of its gas. "That's perfect! Nice and slow, nice and slow, patience is the key! You do not want to use too much strength or speed or everything will spill." After a few minutes she gave Frisk the word to stop mixing and tapped the excess off the whisk. "Do not eat any of it yet my child! The batter is still not ready! Hold on one moment while I get the dry ingredients…" She turned her back and started getting the corn starch, brown sugar, butterscotch chips, and of course the cinnamon. While Toriel was not looking Frisk glared at Chara for an explanation.

Chara, distracted by whatever revelation they had, completely missed how annoyed Frisk was. "I figured it out. How humans can expand their magic field. The problem is that the human body is resistant to magic. That's what makes bullets ineffective against a human, but it's also what makes it so hard for a human to expand their field! That's why monsters can do it easily but humans can't! So you can't ease into it like monsters can, think of it, ah, like a rocketship trying to escape Earth's gravity, you can't do it slowly, you have to use all your power and punch through all at once! Yeah, like Undyne!"

Huh. When they explained it like that it did seem pretty simple. Frisk took a steadying breath, feeling for their aura. They had practiced this step a lot, so they felt pretty confident about it. It felt a little like a fuzziness, a second skin overlapping their own. When they tried to gently push outwards nothing happened as usual. But if Chara was right, it was really that they were being too nice. They had to force their way through.

With a single great effort they hurled themselves forward while keeping their feet firmly on the stool. A green upside-down heart appeared on Toriel's back; in the same instant Toriel shrieked and dropped the cornstarch can on the counter, sending the contents spilling over the counter and into a small white cloud. Toriel whirled around with one hand on her chest and the other bracing herself against the counter. Frisk immediately let the focus drop and the reverse-heart vanished. Chara's eyes bulged nearly out of their head and they slapped both hands over their mouth. They lowered their hands a fraction of an inch to apologize: "I… didn't mean… for you to try it now…"

"Frisk…" Toriel breathed. "That was you, was it not?"

"I'm sorry," Frisk said quickly. "I didn't-"

Toriel smiled warmly, though some of the surprise had not yet faded. "There's nothing to apologize for, nothing at all!" She came in for a hug and it was reciprocated. "It is normal for children to try out their magic. I simply had not expected it of you! After all, none of the other humans had ever shown any ability to do this. You are a very clever child!" Somewhere inside them Frisk knew they did not deserve all this praise. They never could have done it without Chara's assistance and advice, after all. But it made them feel warm and fuzzy so they drank it up greedily. "Perhaps we could try teaching you magic, if you are agreeable."

Frisk thought about that. Their eyes flicked over to Chara, who was not giving a clear signal either way. Their face was scrunched up in thought. "Maybe not right now," Chara admitted. "You've got lots to catch up on at school." It was true; their grades were much better but they had still missed a lot of material during the first grade, and they had to work much harder just to tread water. Learning magic would be fun but would eat up what little free time they had. There was another reason to hold off, though, this one much darker. Frisk could hurt kids with their fists but it would not be anything permanent. But if they learned to use magic they might reach for it in a moment of anger when those bullies came back to try their luck. One wrong move with magic might kill someone, and there would be no Loading it away.

So they shook their head to Toriel's disappointment. "Maybe in a few months," they said. "When I'm your kid for real."

Toriel blinked. For a moment Toriel seemed embarrassed, as though she had just been corrected over a very silly mistake. "Oh," she said simply. "Yes, I suppose that would be best. We are not supposed to let others know you are being cared for by monsters, are we not? It would be letting the cat out of the bag if you started using magic. Very well, Frisk. But in return you have to promise me! Be very careful with your magic field. Do not put it over people! We live in a city, and monsters know not to do it in populated areas. Humans do not know much about magic and would not understand. So please keep your field to yourself. Do you understand?"

Frisk nodded quickly and without hesitation. "Uh huh. I won't do anything to get you in trouble."

Toriel kissed Frisk on the forehead. "Such a good child…"

* * *

Even though there were apartment buildings all set up, offices for the Monster Integration Committee downtown, and a full-size laboratory on the end of the block, Asgore continued to sleep and conduct his business in a tent on the grounds. He claimed it was not suitable for a leader to offer only used dwellings for his subjects to live in and his own house would not be ready for weeks yet. Silas pushed open the flap and entered the tent. It was no mere pup tent, but a sprawling dwelling that could comfortably fit an entire family inside, or one boss monster and change. Asgore's bedroll was rolled up and stowed to the side and Asgore was sitting cross-legged on a mat. There was a stack of thick books on either side of him with bookmarks and sticky notes marking certain pages. A quick glance down the spines of the books revealed a pattern: Bible, Quran, Torah, Vedas, Tripitaka, Kojiki, etcetera. Still he could not help but ask, "I never figured you as a religious man, Asgore."

Asgore put aside his current reading material and smiled. "I am researching common elements between the stories I was told as a boy and the various stories told in humans' holy texts. The truth is, while I was Underground I noticed many monsters having, well, a crisis of faith. Over time our religion has morphed to focus solely on the prophecy, on the hopes of freedom. The angel we have been waiting hundreds of years for finally arrived and we are free. But that's not the end of the story. The savior came yesterday, but what are we to do today? And what will we live to tomorrow for? Most of our records of the religious beliefs monsters held prior to the sealing were lost with our Loremaster, Wing Din. I can dimly recall a few myths and legends I was told as a boy, but they are not enough to build an entire theology around. But perhaps by researching the common threads in human religion I can discover the missing pieces, or at least enough to give my people something to believe in."

"So you've been researching human religions to try and build a base off of? I am suddenly very concerned about the reason you asked me here."

"I know enough not to ask you for an expert opinion," Asgore assured him. "Only your experiences as a human. Underground there was only one religion, but on the surface there are many. Why? What keeps humans from having a single religion you all follow?"

Silas scratched the back of his head. "Right for a hard one, huh? There are lots of reasons. Cultural identity, tradition, belonging to the community. Changing religions or sects isn't just trading one belief for another, it means changing your whole worldview. Every religion has its own idea of what righteousness is and earnestly believes it is the best way of achieving justice in this life or the next."

"Justice. Hm. And do any of them administer justice better than others?"

"Bear in mind," Silas warned. "This is only what I think. I am not exactly a theological scholar. But any religion or philosophy or ideology can justify good, or it can justify evil. I believe the effect you have on the world is more important than why you're doing it or what you believe. If you give generously to the poor the most important thing is that the poor can eat and have comfort. It doesn't matter whether you did it because of empathy or because God told you to or… I don't know, because you believe alien ghosts will give you super powers. You're making the world a better, kinder place. That's what's important, not the name of who or what you pray to or what set of rituals you do."

Asgore stroked his beard, deep in thought. "In other words, you don't think much of the process so long as one reaches the desired end." Asgore was, in many ways, the exact opposite. Treat people kindly, with dignity and respect, and you will arrive at a just ending even if it is not necessarily the desired ending. Still, Silas' viewpoint was an interesting one. One worth considering, if not adopting.

Silas stuck his hands in his pockets. "Sorry that's not the answer to the question you asked."

"You gave me the answer you were going to," Asgore said. "If I asked a question you could not answer any other way, the fault is mine. If I can ask another question on that same subject? If the goal is to rebuild monster religion, what would you suggest?"

Silas considered the question, cupping his chin with his left hand. "My suggestion would be, don't. Religion would be another wedge to drive you apart from humans. I'm not saying discard your customs, but if you don't have a religious structure of your own you lose nothing by converting to a human religion and forming an immediate connection with humanity."

Asgore nodded. That was a similar answer to what Beatrice gave. She went even further; her thought was, since most of the United States followed some form of Christianity it would be politically useful for the monsters to also become Christian. There were a variety of denominations to choose from, and many of them would gladly welcome the monsters with open arms. "It is tempting," Asgore said with a sad smile. "But I believe I at least would have to officially remain agnostic. I want my people to have the freedom to make their own choice, and I am afraid many would simply follow whatever decision I made. It will take some time for monsters to get used to the idea of deciding things for themselves. Already I am not sure they truly understand the concept of 'representative democracy' your country uses."

Silas prepared a sharp word or two about how many humans did not understand how their own government worked but wisely bit his tongue. "I get the feeling you didn't invite me over just to talk about God."

"No, that is not all," Asgore admitted. "Camille, have you finished reading the mayor's proposal? Can you bring it over and provide your summary?"

"Yes, sir."

Silas scrambled away from the source of the voice and put a hand to his chest to calm his beating heart. He had not even noticed there was another person here! This new person was a lizard monster in a cyan-colored pantsuit. Silas only needed one look at how her eyes were on opposite sides of her head to recall which lizard she resembled. Camille. Chameleon. He fought hard to suppress a sigh. He did not know how but this had Asgore's fingerprints all over it. "Proposal?" he repeated.

Camille nodded. "Tomorrow Mr. Dreemurr will be meeting with Mayor Cole. She will be unveiling a new order for the city. She cannot pass laws on her own, but she can direct how those laws are enforced."

"Yes, separation of powers is an important part of the US system of government. I am well aware of this. What does that mean in this context?" He waved his hand in a 'get on with it' gesture.

"There are certain requirements in the United States for someone to work, receive licenses, or own property. Social security numbers, proof of residency, the like. The mayor has proposed, as a stopgap for citizenship, that these requirements will be temporarily waived for monsters. It would allow us to begin production of monster food for sale immediately, for monsters to purchase homes or open businesses on the surface, and other freedoms normally restricted to citizens."

Silas frowned. "Is that legal? Can she really do that?"

"You're the lawyer," Camille said with a smirk. "From what I can tell it does bend the rules a bit. There are some dangers; Mayor Cole informed us we would not be forced to pay certain taxes, but it is possible that citizenship will be dependent on paying those back taxes once the final bill is passed. So we'll have to set the money for those taxes aside. Also, it would only apply within the limits of Weymouth; until full citizenship is passed we would be restricted from operating outside the city. It also applies to certain licenses but not others; Papyrus would be able to get a driver's license, but unfortunately Miss Toriel would be unable to begin the adoption process for Frisk Holder."

Silas winced. "That's not going to go over well back at home. Are you sure it's off the table?"

"We tried," Asgore rumbled. "It is not within her power. Adoptions are handled at a higher level than the city, and Mayor Cole's influence only extends so far."

That was unfortunate but not unexpected. He knew it was more than likely that he would be looking after Frisk for several months when he first hatched this scheme. It was unfortunate that Toriel would be unable to begin the adoption process even as many other monsters would be allowed to fulfill their dreams on the surface. He honestly wished it were different. True, he had suspicions when he saw the burn marks on Frisk's shirt, but he had been keeping a very close eye on Toriel in Frisk in the past few weeks. If there had been any hesitation in Toriel's embrace or any trace of fear in Frisk's body language he was confident he would have seen it. But the two of them were as close as any mother and child. No one was that good of an actor. It made it hard to believe anything had happened that should not have. He sighed, "We will have to take what we can get. If we aren't paying taxes on the sales of monster food it will light a fire under the state. That must be the mayor's plan, hold the tax revenue hostage until monsters are granted citizenship."

Asgore perked up. "So we should expect it to happen…?"

"In a few months to a few years." Asgore deflated. "Believe me, I get it. The problem is that it would require the state congress to pass the law, and… let me put it this way. The more people who are needed to pass a law the longer it takes to get it done. As King, if you decide to put a new law in place you just say it's the law now and that's it. But the New Hampshire House has…" Silas stopped as he tried to remember.

Papyrus poked his head inside the tent. "Four hundred members!" Everyone turned to look at him. "Do you want to know their names?"

"That is, quite all right," Asgore said. "That will not be necessary." Papyrus retreated with a "Nyeh heh heh!"

Silas concluded, "As Papyrus said, 400 members who only meet for a few hours once a week. It takes them forever to decide on anything, regardless of how urgent their response needs to be. I am afraid you will have to wait a while, but this will be a very strong move in favor of monster rights."

His phone rang at that moment. He checked the caller ID; it was Ms. Ashland from Child Services. He turned to ask Asgore whether he was alright to take the call but Asgore was already nodding and waving goodbye. "I understand you are a very busy man," Asgore said. "I apologize for asking you to come down in person. I will see you again before too long, and hopefully our offices will be finished by then."

Silas said a quick goodbye and left the tent, squinting into the evening sun. "Hello, Ms. Ashland. I assume this is about the next scheduled check-in for Frisk?"

"That check-in is going to end up being postponed," she said. "I need you to help me, actually. I have a married couple that's looking to adopt Frisk, and I was hoping you would be able to come meet them with me."

… What? Someone was actually looking to adopt Frisk? "Wait, why do you need my help with this? I'm just the foster parent, does my opinion even matter?"

"True, this is not the way it is ordinarily done," Ms. Ashland admitted. "But you seem to be taking Frisk's well being very seriously. I thought it would be better to get your perspective now rather than having it yelled at me later. If I may be honest, Mr. Pembrook, you are, more than anyone else I've met, invested in Frisk's well-being. I'm not going to pull Frisk away from you without a good reason, especially not to put them in the hands of the people who abandoned them at birth."

Silas knew then he had a heart because he felt it turn to ice. Once again the worst-case scenario was coming true. "The people trying to adopt Frisk are their biological parents?"

"So they say. I'm meeting them at 5 tomorrow. Can you be there?"

What other response could he have? "I will make the time for it."

* * *

AN: I designed Homura by mix and matching a few different concepts about oni, Japanese mountain-dwelling demons. The fanon character Fuku has a Japanese name, so if she is Grillby's daughter it made sense in my head for her other parent to have more Japanese influences. In the present day Homura lives in the capital with Fuku while she is going to school; she and Grillby still love each other very much.


End file.
